The Master Spy
by Aurette
Summary: When misfortune befalls Professor Granger, the reclusive hero, Severus Snape, is called on to ride to her rescue. All in a day's work for the Master Spy. However, things are not always as they seem.
1. The Play's the Thing

**AN: **A very special _**Thank you**_, to my beautiful friends and betas Hebe GB and **Dressagegrrrl**, for keeping me sane during a terrible time with tea, sympathy and Jammie Dodgers. And also for having patience when this chapter made my sanity hiccup a bit. I cannot express how much I love you two. Thanks also to guest betas **Noelle Leithe**, who has the misfortune to actually be related to me, and **Whitehound**, who jumped in at the last minute and kept this one chapter from ending up in the Recycle Bin.

Canon has been twerked as needed, but with utmost respect. Dialogue that appears in bold-face is taken verbatim from Deathly Hallows, and thus are the words of JK Rowling, herself.

* * *

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

Together with

**The Harry Potter Widows and Orphans Fund**

Present:

**HEROES, ONE AND ALL**

A Play

Written and Directed by

Professor Hermione J. Granger

* * *

The students who were playing young Harry, Ron, and Hermione bowed several times to the audience, despite having been told repeatedly by the director that it wasn't proper to bow between acts. 'Harry' and 'Ron' blatantly attempted to see past the spotlights, hands held across brows, and when they saw the empty seat in the middle of the first row, they both sighed and slouched off the stage. 'Hermione' kept bobbing and waving until he finally noticed Professor Granger flapping at him with her script from the footlights. At that point, he finally scurried of the stage, and the charmed curtain came down with a whoosh and an apologetic grimace from the Herbology teacher, Professor Longbottom. Professor Granger, left standing on the wrong side, scrambled clumsily under the curtain.

Once in the little room behind the high-table dias, which was doing duty as "backstage", she immediately set about changing the sets while Hagrid, the _de facto_ stage manager, led those students dressed in armor over to their pedestals. Once the sets were ready for the third act, Professor Granger went looking for her little doppelGranger.

Spying him at the mirror, layering on even more of that hideous sparkling pink lip gloss, she went over and had a quiet word with him. Quiet being relative.

"Mr. Watkins," she stage-whispered sternly. "I know you were the only student that auditioned to play me, and I'm honored. But you do realize that the other girls didn't want the part because it _wasn't _glamorous, don't you?" She conjured up a handkerchief and started to wipe at the third-year's lips. "I didn't wear this much make-up, nor use that much hair spray. I n_ever_ ran through the woods in high heels, and I am not now, nor was I then, given to squealing. Do you understand?" She felt badly, having to rein in his burgeoning creativity, but someone had to do it.

"But Professor!" whined Mr. Watkins. "It's my interpretation of the part!"

"Jeremy, you signed up to act an historical role. You need to stick to the part. It's just too much."

"But the things you did were important, Professor," he said earnestly. "I'm just trying to make you more noticeable!"

Big Hermione shook her head sadly at Little Hermione. "I appreciate your efforts," she said, "but I will ask you one last time to play the part as written. I assure you, I was little more than window dressing for most of these events."

"Yes, Professor."

Professor Granger adjusted her glasses, brushed her fingers across her hair to make sure nothing had escaped her vicious chignon, and pressed a hand against the high collar of her nut-brown robes as she took a deep breath. Things seemed to be in place for the last act. She looked around her little fiefdom and launched herself back into the breach.

"Right! Places everyone! Filius, do you think we can leave the house lights up just a little? I'm afraid one of the students will tumble off the stage trying to see if His Nibs has arrived."

"It shall be as you say, my dear Directoress." Professor Flitwick had been an enormous help with the staging of the production, and his charm work on Nagini was perfection.

"Thank you. Hagrid? Hagrid? Hagrid! Are they ready?"

"Aye, I herded them all up and put them where yeh wanted. I think the pedestals are a might tall, mind."

"Are they?" _Blast_, she thought. _This is the sort of thing that happens when you rely on memory boosting charms and only have one rehearsal._

"Don't you worry yourself, Hermione. I'm sure it's nothin'. Everythin' has been perfect so far. Jest a shame the guest of honor is missing it."

"Yes, well," sniffed the Transfiguration mistress. "There are other people out there who do appreciate our efforts. He's just one man, after all. The hall is packed. Could you give Jeremy a bit of advice? He's still struggling with his part."

"Sure! I'll just give the mite a few pointers on what you were like an' such."

"Thank you!"

Flitwick, who had been peeking out through the curtain, waved his hand, and the students tried to out-hiss each other while calling for silence.

"Right. I'm off! Break a leg everyone!" she called softly.

Clutching her script, she slipped around the side of the curtain and took her place hiding in the darkness in front of the footlights. The third act got underway.

"**I wonder what could have brought you out of your bed at this late hour?"**

"**I thought I heard a disturbance."**

"**Really? All seems calm."**

The seventh-year who was playing Snape leaned in and stared dramatically at the sixth-year playing the younger Headmistress McGonagall.

"**Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist-"**

Everything was going well. The actors were all hitting their marks. The audience was actually leaning closer to the stage. The tension was just right. Just as little Minerva was about to unleash her onslaught, and the pivotal duel between McGonagall and Snape would begin, a disturbance from the back of the hall stopped everything.

The loud squeal of the door signaled a late arrival. The susurration of hundreds of heads turning caused even the actors up on stage to turn towards the back of the Great Hall. The excited whispers of _'There he is!' _caught like wildfire, and soon even the students on stage had crowded up to the edge to get a peek at the man. The hero who had turned away from the world these last years. The man that they had all come to see. The reclusive, mysterious, infamous Master Spy, Severus Snape.

The Great Hall fell back into silence. The slow, measured, _kerplick,_ _kerplock_ of the man's boots on the stone flooring rang out over the sound of Professor Granger waving her script frantically at her actors in a futile effort to gain their attention. Finally, she gave up and turned as well. She shoved her glasses back up her nose and stared at him, her lips curled down.

He continued his unhurried pace, impressive in his immaculate dress robes, his cape flaring out behind him as he passed by the Minister of Magic and other important Ministry officials, the original Heroes of Hogwarts, the rest of the school staff and the many other people who were willing to donate to the Widows and Orphans Fund so they could hobnob with Wizarding society's elite. He was still thin, tending towards gaunt, and still seemed pale even in this low light. An overly-eager young witch wearing too many strands of pearls reached out and clasped his cloak as he strode by, and he whirled on her, twitching the dark cloth out of her hand. The oft-seen ferocious scowl on his face morphed into a tolerant, yet slightly disappointed moue, and he nodded his head just the slightest fraction before turning away and heading to the empty seat in the front row.

Harry Potter stood up with an over-bright smile on his face and indicated the empty seat between himself and Headmistress McGonagall. The man just raised an eyebrow, and Harry flushed and dragged a nervous hand through his hair. Snape paused before his empty seat and nodded his head just slightly to the audience, acknowledging their attention, before turning to the Headmistress and giving her a deeper bow. Minerva McGonagall bestowed a fond smile on him and patted the empty seat. He turned back toward the stage and sat, flicking a hand at the cast as the loud murmuring of the crowd died away.

They hit a bit of a rough patch after that.

Professor Granger hissed instructions frantically as the players broke into an impromptu mosh pit trying to find their places. The boy playing Snape, hitherto dripping gravitas, suddenly forgot his lines and stumbled into the suit of armor he was supposed to hide behind, accidentally triggering the spell that made it look as if several daggers were sinking into the metal. The boy in the suit flailed his arms and concussed the girl playing Minerva, who fell to her knees. The little first-year who had been so honored to play his own Head of House, Filius Flitwick, promptly burst into tears and ran off the stage. The quick-thinking seventh-year playing Horace Slughorn slung 'Minerva' over his shoulder and turned to hiss at little 'Harry' and 'Luna' with such emphasis that he sucked in his big, fake mustache and began to choke. Professor Granger whimpered as she scrambled up onto the stage to help the choking boy, as 'McGonagall' came to on his shoulder and blurted out the one line she could remember.

"**And now-**_**Piertotum Locomotor**_**!"**

The rest of the students dressed in armor jumped off their plinths at this unexpected cue and immediately crashed against each other, staggering and tripping over each other's armored legs with cacophonous clangs. One poor sod spun away and, in a valiant effort to reclaim his center of gravity, ran across the entire length of the stage at a forty-five degree angle, arms pin-wheeling madly until he was out of sight. A crash and a scream followed.

Things went mostly on cue for a while after that; the only down point being the titters and giggles from the audience whenever 'Hermione' appeared onstage. Mr. Watkins had obviously taken his quick chat with another primary source to heart. 'Hermione' now looked like a frumpy mouse of a girl, wearing an exact copy of the robes Professor Granger was currently wearing. He also was sporting what looked like tumbleweed from the American Southwest on his head. He recited many of his lines in a bossy, brash voice that caused the filling in his teacher's only cavity to vibrate. Any lines delivered to or about 'Ron' suddenly peeled out in a depraved-sounding simper.

"**It was Ron, all Ron's idea!" **he said in a breathy voice. **"Wasn't it absolutely brilliant?"** He grabbed onto 'Ron's' bicep and batted his eyelashes up at him, causing both 'Harry' and 'Ron' to flub their next lines. 'Hermione' busied himself mooning up at 'Ron', and the poor boy looked thoroughly confused as he delivered his lines about speaking Parseltongue while trying to bat brown tumbleweed from his face.

"**I had to have a few goes to get it right, but we got there in the end."**

"**He was **_**amazing**_**!" **squealed Jeremy, adoringly. **"Amazing!"**

Professor Granger's lip quivered, but she was unsure if it was from tears or laughter.

The mood of the audience turned somber as the heaviness of events took over and the spell was rewoven. The death of Fred Weasley caused more than a few sighs. Hermione looked over to where Ron was sitting with Lavender. His wife rubbed his shoulder as he watched with glistening eyes and a brittle smile.

You could hear a pin drop as young Harry crawled into the Shrieking Shack and gathered up the memories of the dying Snape.

"**Take…it…. Take…it…. Look…at…me…."**

A sob was heard from the audience, as a hand thudded to the floor. Even Professor Granger was moved to peer at Snape. He sat, still as stone, as the Headmistress reached over and squeezed his arm, before dabbing at her own eyes.

Professor Flitwick's charmed voice rang out through the Hall and made everyone jump. Granger, who had expected it, was still looking at the Master Spy and saw his eyes widen in alarm and something that looked close to fear spread across his features. She felt guilty, thinking they should've stuck to the student's voice. No one that was there that day would forget that voice, it was obvious now that recreating it so faithfully had been in poor taste.

"**You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.**

"**Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one."**

This next part was nerve-wracking for her to watch. When she had been writing the play, she'd first thought to omit any reference to Snape's memories-deciding the man would prefer his privacy-but a conversation with Harry on the subject made her change her mind.

"_I don't think he'd be upset at all. When I returned his memories in the hospital, he seemed rather pleased that they had helped. I think he's actually happy people know. I can't blame him, his whole life had been a lie, and now the truth is out. I'd go ahead and put it in the play."_

And so she had. She watched as the students reenacted Snape's life in quick, meaningful passages which charted his first friendship and its shameful loss, his life as a double-agent, his stoicism in the face of pain and suffering.

"**You're…you're a witch." **

"**I'm sorry!"**

"**Save your breath."**

"**You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff. You know, sometimes I think we Sort too soon…."**

The audience was rapt as he cried out in anguish, **"And my soul Dumbledore? Mine?"**

They sighed as he revealed his abiding love, untarnished by time.

"**After all this time?"**

"**Always."**

As the flashbacks ended she darted another glance at the man and detected a slight smile. Almost a smirk. Whatever that look signified, it wasn't the thunderous expression of anger she had feared. She turned back towards the stage.

She had played her audience like a master. Harry's long walk to his own death mesmerized them. At her cues, Flitwick's special effects produced the Dementors and the ghosts of loved ones, as well as the green flash as the young actor collapsed to the stage, and the transition to King's Cross went off beautifully. She had waved her wand furiously to swap sets on the fly.

At the peak of the drama, just as the student 'Hagrid' was carrying 'Harry' out of the forest, all hell broke loose. The same unfortunate students that had been buckled into the armor earlier were now wearing charmed costumes to look like centaurs. They fared no better on four legs than they had on two.

As 'Neville' screamed and clawed at the fake fire from the Sorting Hat on his head, the artificially-expanded stage filled with cries as the first centaurs hurdled onto the stage and promptly nose-dived, as their legs splayed in several directions at once. The few still upright lollopped around, knocking down actors and set pieces. One, in a vain effort to regain his balance, skittered along as if on four roller skates until he careened off the stage at a forty-five degree angle. Several wands in the audience came out and caught him but there was no consensus as to what to do with him, and he was pushed and pulled and tugged sideways until his costume ripped, and he collapsed to the floor in nothing but his pants. Professor Longbottom scurried along the footlights to grab him.

During all this, a tree-part of the set disturbed by the onslaught of centaurs-collapsed and fell into the wings, nearly striking Filius. He dodged out of the way, but as he jerked his arm, he also sent his fake Nagini-another impressively realistic bit of charm work-out into the audience. Professor Granger watched in horror as Snape's attention switched from an amused survey of the bit of costume Minerva was waving around, to the life-sized, murderous snake that was flying straight for his head.

"Gods fuck!" he bellowed. He appeared to be paralyzed until the Headmistress flicked her wand and banished both snake and costume. When it vanished he leapt to his feet, wand in hand, and stared about the room. His expression terrified everyone in a twenty foot radius. Harry reached up and touched his arm and was violently rebuffed.

"Severus, be seated," Minerva said quietly. The absolute silence in the room allowed her quiet words to travel a fair distance. You could almost see the ruffled feathers start to lay down, as Snape took several deep breaths and turned back towards the stage. His eyes found the play's director, and he stared daggers at her before sweeping the stage with his displeasure. He gathered his robes around himself and sat.

Several students started to whimper. Flitwick cast another charm and an almost ludicrously cartoonish snake appeared around the shoulders of 'Voldemort' who stood stock still, staring at the still very angry Snape in the front row.

"**HAGGER!" **screamed the real Hagrid, gamely playing his brother Grawp, as he lumbered onto the stage. The momentary paralysis was broken and the action on stage resumed. Several of the crippled centaurs weakly shot off a few charmed arrows from where they were still wallowing on the stage. Student Death Eaters fought against Student Order Members and mostly only managed to blind each other with the brightness of their fake hexes. They quickly started to bounce into and off each other.

Several loud pops startled the audience, and Hogwarts's own house-elves arrived on stage, along with their own guest-star. They had been tremendously honored when asked if they wanted to recreate their famous charge and their enthusiasm showed. Actually, it terrified. Kreacher, proudly wearing his locket, led the charge as house-elves swarmed across the stage. They zeroed in on the students playing the Death Eaters and shrieked at them, their faces reflecting pure malice and hatred as they waved real cleavers and knives. Professor Granger's lecture on 'authenticity' had not gone over their heads. Students screamed and ran.

'Neville' grabbed up the fake Sword of Gryffindor that had finally dropped out of the Sorting Hat he'd been throttling and, still dazed by the disaster around him, took a half-hearted swing at the snake. Flitwick had been distracted by a screaming 'Narcissa Malfoy' being chased into the wings by a shrieking Winky swearing dire retribution, so there was a long pause between the swing and when the snake obligingly dropped its head to the stage.

Hermione let out an audible moan as the play devolved into utter chaos. She frantically waved to get anyone's attention and try end the pain as quickly as possible. Dialogue was hissed to the actors at a frantic rate as Professor Granger tried to rope them back to task. There was some confusion, since she had prompted her 'Harry' to jump ahead a few pages of script in an effort to end the nightmare sooner. 'Harry' and 'Voldemort' repeated their lines in an awful, stilted recitation edging closer to the edge of the stage to hear their lines. The audience was shifting and grumbling, the worst possible omen for a director. The students were reduced to looking straight at their teacher and simply repeating whatever she said until their favorite lines finally came up, and they remembered there were three hundred people staring at them.

"**What childish dream is this?" **said 'Voldemort' with feeling as he stepped back from the edge of the stage.

"**Severus Snape wasn't yours. He was Dumbledore's, Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand."**

The two student actors circled each other, and the other students started to remember their places and their responses as the two main characters now said their lines from memory.

Finally, the end came.

"**Avada Kadavra!"**

"**Expelliarmus!"**

Flitwick hit his cue, and the resulting bang was indeed like a cannon blast. Half the audience jumped in their seats and several screamed.

'Voldemort' tossed 'Harry' his wand as he dropped backwards onto the stage in a death infinitely more graceful than the real thing. 'The Golden Trio' grouped together at center stage, and the rest of the actors clustered around them as the 'sun' rose steadily on Hogwarts. Hermione quickly changed the set on the darkened portion of the stage. When she heard a rustle of cloth she gave Flitwick the signal.

On cue, a spotlight shone down on the solitary body of Severus Snape, still lying in the Shrieking Shack.

'Harry' stepped to the front of the stage and said, "We have lost so many brave and noble souls today. Our victory is bittersweet. Let us go and retrieve the body of our unsung hero, the bravest man I know."

The entire ensemble followed 'Harry' stage left.

"Wait! He still breathes! Get him some air! Get pressure on that wound!" cried 'Hermione' in a bossy tone.

"How is that possible?" exclaimed 'Ron'.

"He was a Potions master; I bet he had a bezoar! We've been so stupid! Obviously a man as mighty as Severus Snape couldn't be stopped by a mere magical snake!" cried 'Harry'.

"Let me through!" shouted 'Madam Pomfrey'.

The tension in the Hall gathered as the actors flashed their fake Healing spells in utter silence. Finally, 'Madam Pomfrey' sat back on her haunches and dramatically wiped a wrist across her brow.

"He'll make it! Severus Snape is going to live!" The cries of the actors were soon joined by the thunderous applause of the audience.

Only the Master Spy himself failed to join in, but his scowl was gone. He wore a politely tolerant expression.

The students all started to hug each other enthusiastically until they finally noticed their teacher was tapping the stage with her wand. Then they all lined up at the edge of the stage and held hands to take a bow. The applause was hearty, probably because it was finally over.

The actors bowed again and then started to clap and gesture. Hermione thought they were urging her up on stage for a bow and smiled as she scrambled up to join them. She realized to her chagrin that they were gesturing to Snape. He finally stepped forward and turned to the audience and gave them a short, perfunctory bow. He turned back and bowed quickly to the actors on stage. As his head came up his eyes met hers, and he gave her a small smile and another short bow. The ensemble stepped back, and the curtain dropped with a whoosh.

Hermione Granger looked around her with a peculiar mixture of pride and humiliation as the students ran backstage to change out of their costumes. The house-elves, no longer terrifying demons, but once again the sweet, eager-to-please creatures they all knew and loved, appeared all at once and started to vanish the sets. She found herself in the way as they swiftly began to set up for the award ceremony. Looking around, she realized she was alone. The students had all scurried away. The other professors had headed out to mingle with the crowd. The curtain vanished, and she saw Harry and Ron, ignoring each other as usual with their customary twenty feet between them. Both were busy chatting with their own wives and business associates. Snape and the Headmistress were nowhere in sight. She looked out at the crowded hall for a moment longer before hugging her script close and walking offstage to find a quiet place to hide.

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I hope you enjoyed! Review and let me know.


	2. Order of Merlin

**AN:** Love, hugs, and chocolate go to my team, **Hebe GB**, **Dressagegrrrl** and **Whitehound**. Special thanks to Deeger, for her valiant efforts in the face of techno-failure. I mean, seriously, trying to load a chapter onto your _phone_ to edit? That's lub.

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"Severus, you look wonderful. I should give you grief for not bothering to drop by even once these last five years, but I'm too glad you're here tonight to bother."

"Your restraint is greatly appreciated, Minerva. Besides, we do occasionally correspond. That puts you on a footing high above the rest."

The two former colleagues had been first out of the Great Hall after the play ended. Minerva had linked her arm through his and steered him quickly away from the horde trying to descend on him. Wine was being served under the twinkling fairy lights out in the Rose Garden set up for the event. Each had grabbed a glass and walked until they had given themselves a good bit of distance from the crowd.

"Why now, Severus? You've jealously guarded your privacy all this time-and I respect that-but what has changed? Why this year and not last year or the years before? Kingsley's has wanted to give you this award for five years now, and you always refused."

Snape stopped and sipped his wine, trying to formulate an answer.

"I always turned down their award because I didn't want or need their validation. The Ministry saw fit to bestow a rather handsome annuity for my service, and I was content to retire into research. However, I finally reached a point where I was heartily sick of seeing only my own reflection. I desire to explore the difference between wanting to be alone, and having no choice." He stared across the lawn thoughtfully. "I'd been thinking of ways to make my way slowly back into the world these last few months. Finally acquiescing to Shacklebolt and Potter seemed to be the most public way of doing that."

"Ah. I understand."

"Do you? I'm not that sure I do myself."

The older woman squeezed his arm as they walked beyond the lights and out onto the moonlit lawn. The smell of freshly-mown grass was a welcome, soothing balm after the chaos of that play.

"You needed time to regroup. Now, you're ready to be social. I think it's perfectly understandable. I would caution you, however. I don't know how aware you are of just who you've become in your own absence." He gave her a curious look. "You are more than you were, Severus. Your status as a hero is more than a mortal could live up to. They've rewritten your life, and little of what they say is familiar to me. You kept you fair share of secrets, however, so I cannot claim to know you as well as I thought." She patted him on the arm. "Their obsession can be a good thing or a bad thing. You have a marvelous opportunity here. You have a chance to reinvent yourself. However, never lose sight of the fact that as much as this world loves its heroes, they love to tear them down as well. Look at the Golden Trio."

"What of them? You saw the play, Minerva, they are as celebrated as ever."

"But at what cost? Mr. Potter spreads himself too thin, trying to be what everyone expects of him, and it almost cost him his marriage. Did you notice Mr. Weasley sat on the end of the row? That's because the two of them no longer speak. Ronald couldn't function as the dependable side-kick and finish growing up at the same time. He pulled away and created his own life. He has a lovely family of his own now, and he concentrates on that. The press hates him because he won't play their game anymore."

"What of Miss Granger? She was barely recognizable."

Minerva gave him a measured look. "I'm surprised you noticed her. Most people don't."

"You couldn't miss her. She was the best part of the play. What in Merlin's name happened to her? She looks like she's dissolving from the inside."

"She's still hiding. Fame has hollowed out Harry, chewed up and spit out Ron, but it slid right by Hermione. She made herself invisible to avoid it, and now I think she's trapped. I fear even I have fallen into the pattern of overlooking her myself."

She shook her head and patted his arm. "Enjoy yourself, but be mindful that most of those people in there are a vicious pack of wolves, circling you to see if you might weaken. Keep your wits about you."

"Fear not, Minerva. I've planned accordingly. I only became a recluse. I didn't give up being Slytherin."

The Headmistress laughed as she took his arm again and they walked back to the crowded gardens.

"I should hope not. I do miss sparring with my favorite Slytherin. I expect a lot more lunch dates from you now that you are a newly social creature."

"Indeed. I shall make an effort, but I make no promises."

"I would hope not. Beware making promises, Severus. They usually cause you grief."

"As long as I stay away from oaths, a promise or two shouldn't hurt."

* * *

"…and so it is more than time. More than fitting. It is also something I myself have always hoped for, that we finally honor the last unhonored hero. For without this man's selfless and courageous efforts, efforts that brought him to the very brink of death, the Dark might not have been vanquished. The path I had to tread would have been unpaved, my best efforts perhaps useless if he had not given me, with what we all thought was his dying breath, the information I needed to submit myself to my fate.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is a great honor to be allowed to give this man this award tonight, and I do so in a spirit of gratitude and humility."

"Severus Snape, on behalf of a grateful people, I present you with The Order of Merlin, First Class, for actions taken in defense of our world, for injuries sustained in the line of duty, and for your integral part in bringing down an evil that would surely have destroyed us all."

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is a great honor to be allowed to give this man his award tonight, and I do so with my heart full of gratitude and humility."

Harry Potter turned to the man seated on the dais between the Minister for Magic and the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

"Severus Snape, on behalf of a grateful people, I present you with The Order of Merlin, First Class, for actions taken in defense of our world, for injuries sustained in the line of duty, and for your integral part in bringing down an evil that would surely have destroyed us all."

Hermione watched Snape up on the dais the house-elves had put back together after they'd vanished the last of her stage. He stood up and then paused as the thunderous applause washed over him. He seemed both indifferent to it and mildly pleased. She rose to stand when everyone else did, her view having been blocked by the people standing five rows deep before her. She bobbed and shifted until she could see out through a wizard's armpit as Harry lifted the medal over Snape's head. She lifted a hand and fingered her own medal. Minerva had insisted she wear it; everyone who had one was wearing theirs tonight. Her feelings were a confusing turmoil. She felt mostly proud, but also a tiny bit envious that hers was only Second Class. She also felt exposed wearing it. As if someone would suddenly realize she had been there, and the harsh glare that she'd seen nearly destroy her friends would finally turn on her as well. Not that anyone had noticed so far. She had perfected the art of being 'non-descript' a little too well.

The audience seemed to have gone mad. They were yelling and screaming in a near orgy of adulation that Hermione found extremely disconcerting. Snape stood at the podium, having given up trying to speak. He was perfectly poised, the epitome of grace and elegance under pressure. He seemed regally bemused, as if Hades had been invited to a party by mere mortals and wasn't sure if he approved. The crowd ate it up. A middle-aged witch in the row in front of Hermione swooned dramatically, but not before letting everyone near her know that the Master Spy had made eye contact with her. Hermione shuddered.

She began to have difficulty breathing. Little hairs prickled all over her body and tiny bright sparks danced before her eyes. She started to slide out of the row of seats, murmuring excuses and apologies until she gained the aisle. She fled to the back of the Hall and opened the door to escape. She paused and looked back one more time and was startled to find herself caught in Snape's gaze. An eyebrow lifted slightly, and he tilted his head just the slightest bit, but then he jutted his chin at the doors and turned away. The message was unmistakable; she had his permission to leave. She hadn't been aware she needed it, but felt grateful nonetheless.

* * *

The band played a soft, jazzy tune as the guests mingled and chattered away. The clink of champagne flutes could be heard throughout the hall and out into the garden. Severus had grown weary of making small talk an hour ago and was down to an eyebrow or an ambiguous nod of his head, with the occasional 'Indeed' thrown in as his only conversational tools. No one seemed to mind. He did get slightly more verbose whenever a beautiful woman approached, an occasion the press deemed extremely news worthy. He'd collected several Floo-addresses. Discreetly, of course.

Lucius Malfoy sauntered up. He was nearly as casually elegant as he'd always been in the past, but there was a wariness and subtle insecurity that had never been there before.

"Snape. You clean up rather well, old man. You really had us all fooled, you know."

"Lucius. How's the wife?" The Malfoys hadn't fared well in the public eye these last five years.

"She's fine. She sends her love. She's heartbroken she couldn't be here tonight, but she had long-standing plans that couldn't be cancelled."

Snape gave him a long stare. "That almost worked. Now tell me the truth."

Malfoy sighed the slightest bit. "She's terrified to come out in public. She's been full of fears since the battle, but it's getting worse. Now she's convinced herself there are rogue elements attempting to discredit us. I haven't been able to get her to leave our property in over a year."

"I'm very sorry to hear that. And Draco?"

"Draco's fine. He's married, and his wife is expecting any day now. He refuses to leave her side."

"My congratulations on your upcoming addition to the family. Will this be the first?"

"No. I already have one grandson. Xeno. Named after his other grandfather."

"Good heavens, not Lovegood…"

"That's him." Lucius rolled his eyes.

"Family gatherings must be entertaining."

"You've no idea, but I'm hoping you will. We'd love for you to come for dinner sometime soon. Narcissa really did wish she could be here. She's dreadfully fond of you, my friend."

"I'd be honored." A camera flashed, and Lucius was openly pleased. "That should gain you some mileage," said Snape

"One lives in hope." He pursed his lips wryly before dropping his wine glass on a passing tray. "I shall take my leave. I really don't like being away from home much myself anymore. I really just came to extend that invitation."

"I'll expect to hear from you soon."

Lucius departed, and Snape was swarmed by people he didn't know. He saw an older couple with fading ginger hair and politely excused himself from the latest cluster of admirers to go and greet Molly and Arthur. Molly was effusive with her happiness, and Arthur was quietly welcoming as his wife mauled Snape and begged for forgiveness for doubting him.

"Nonsense, Molly. You were supposed to doubt me. That was the whole point."

Snape listened with more pleasure than he thought himself capable as Arthur listed his children's accomplishments, grandchildren's names, and the latest Muggle inventions on which he'd managed to get his hands. Not in that order. Molly extended an invite to dinner that he readily accepted. He'd always liked her cooking.

Snape was enjoying the evening. He enjoyed the feeling of camaraderie and the concept of 'old friends.' He especially liked how everyone admitted they had misjudged him and how much they admired his bravery. Not that he would admit it.

"Mr. Snape? It's such a great honor to meet you. And to be here tonight is almost overwhelming." He turned his head and saw it was the blonde nearly choking on all the pearls that had accosted him when he'd arrived.

"The honor is all mine, Miss-?"

"Evalene, Evalene Dandiwether." She had sky-blue eyes that he filed away in his brain under the heading 'useless charms,' and enormous breasts that he filed under the heading 'charming.' He deemed her about twenty-seven and assumed she would only admit to twenty-two. He scoured his brain and turned up gold.

"Miss Dandiwether! Of course! I didn't recognize you for a moment. Please do forgive me."

"Oh! You remembered me!"

"But of course. I always remember the exceptional students." And he did. He remembered having chased her out of various dark nooks on several occasions. Never with the same young man. "Even though you didn't pursue Potions any farther, I continued to hear stories of your extraordinary talents." None of her talents had anything to do with academics, according to a handful of satisfied young men.

"You flatter me," she giggled and tapped him on the arm with her fan. "I had no idea you were really so charming. You're an amazing spy. Really. All of us believed you were just a complete berk. I mean, even before You-Know-Who came back, you were deep undercover. There wasn't an uglier, nastier man in school besides Filch." He had to work to keep the pleasant smile on his face. She stepped closer and placed her dainty little hand on his arm. "It boggles the mind that such a brave man was hidden under that all these years. You really are a Master Spy. You must have been so lonely…"

"Indeed. Would you care to dance, Miss Dandiwether?"

"Only if you'll call me Evalene."

"Then you must call me Severus"

* * *

He was flogging his last, frazzled nerve when there was a flickering of lights and a call for attention from the podium. He'd chatted with just about every person in the room. Danced with nearly every woman. Fended off a seat on the Wizengamot that Kingsley assured him was his as soon as he was ready. He'd had a month's worth of meals lined up and the Floo-addresses of fourteen pretty women of all shapes and sizes. He'd actually had his fill of flirtatious glances and certainly had had enough of being casually groped by drunken old women and one young man. He'd intended to use the occasion to initiate a social life, and he considered it a success.

"If I could have everyone's attention for just one moment? Just a moment, please? Thank you." Harry Potter gestured for Snape to approach the stage. His wife was standing off to the side, beaming proudly.

Snape was grateful for the interruption. He was tired. He was dancing with Sybil's replacement as Divination Professor, a raven-haired beauty named Romilda Something who was beginning to make his hair stand on end. A large part of his quest-actually the only important part-was to find himself some companionship, but she had far too much stalker potential. He made his excuses to the young woman, surreptitiously Vanishing the parchment with the Floo-address to her cottage in Hogsmead, and left her. She tried to follow him up onto the dais, but Minerva hooked an arm around her shoulders and stopped her. Bless her.

"The official awards are over, so I apologize for monopolizing part of the fun, but I have a personal gift I wish to give. Mr. Snape, I want you to know that you are the bravest man I know. I know that I can neither take back the trouble I caused you nor repay the debt I owe, and I am ashamed now to remember how I misjudged you. I know now that you were putting on an act, but a few people saw through it even though I failed to. Hermione-where's Hermione? There you are!" Snape turned and saw her standing behind a refreshment table, across the room. Surely she wasn't serving? He watched the blood drain from her face as she nervously bit her lip. He remembered that gesture well but that was about all that seemed familiar. She had changed more than anyone else, it seemed. "Hermione always spoke up for you and even Ron-" Harry choked a bit. "My best friends tried to talk sense into me sometimes, but I stubbornly insisted that you were second only to Voldemort himself."

Snape was alarmed at how over-wrought the young man was getting. He was about to embarrass himself. He was about to embarrass Snape.

"Mr. Potter, please. There is nothing to forgive. Drawing your ire was my job, my duty. I misjudged you early on, and that dynamic actually worked in our favor. And you mustn't forget you were linked to the Dark Lord. Surely you can see how that madman might have interfered with your intellect." What had started as platitudes and panaceas was actually the truth. Snape had startled himself. He looked around and saw Minerva beaming proudly at him. He felt his chest swell. "Mr. Potter, I would like to thank you. For saving our petty little world. For standing out in the light like a beacon and a target. For embracing your duty. And for being who you are." Snape suddenly felt uncomfortable. He was really tired and was getting carried away. He shut up before he said anything that would make him want to throw up later.

The audience burst into applause again, and Snape actually winced. Harry saw it and signaled to Hagrid, who was sobbing into a large, mauve-colored handkerchief. At Harry's signal, Hagrid mopped at his face and picked up a paper-wrapped bundle from a table. It was obviously a framed painting of some sort. Snape started to grow uneasy. He wasn't fond of paintings. The audience quieted down a bit.

"Mr. Snape, as a personal thank you, I would like you to accept this gift from me and my family." Harry took the painting from Hagrid, and his wife tapped it with her wand. Snape started to shift to the back of the dais, and Harry turned to keep the painting facing him. The wrappings fell away, and Snape felt his stomach drop down and land on his bladder. He had a sudden need for the loo.

"Hello, Severus," said the twinkling portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry and his wife beamed with pride. The audience started making demands, and Harry turned and showed them the portrait. Cameras flashed, and Snape did his level best to look inscrutable, knowing 'pleased' was too much to ask. It took him long moments while everyone else was distracted to master himself.

When Harry turned back, Snape had a brittle smile and a kindly acknowledgement rehearsed. Hagrid came and took the portrait after lifting Snape off the ground and nearly squeezing him to unconsciousness. The applause died away as the music started up again.

"Thank you, again, Mr. Potter," he said quietly.

"Please, call me Harry."

"Harry, then. It is a lovely gesture. Wherever did you get the idea?"

"From Albus actually. He has a portrait at the Ministry and we chat daily. He's been a great friend and advisor. He's always interested in even the smallest bit of gossip about you, and when you finally decided to accept the award, he said he'd love to be reunited with you. He's been really looking forward to seeing you. I'll have Kreacher take it back to my place for tonight, and then send it on to your new manor house tomorrow. I'm really glad you like it... um, you do like it, don't you?"

Snape's face was a frozen mask.

"I cannot express my feelings. I'm overwhelmed."

Harry sagged with relief. Snape wanted to cuff him round the ear. Where had his arrogance gone? Snape had often wished the boy taken down a peg, but this was too much.

"We'd like it very much if you came to dinner some night soon," said Ginny.

"I'd be delighted, Mrs. Potter. Just send me an owl. Now if you will excuse me, I have to speak to someone, and then I shall call it a day. Thank you again for the…overwhelming gift."

He turned and strode swiftly to the gents, where he was inevitably surrounded by admirers to the point where he had to flee into a stall and hide.

* * *

Snape did have one person left to speak with. He found her demeanor puzzling and wanted to investigate the situation to appease his own slightly morbid curiosity. It took him a while to find her. He did a circuit of all the places he'd found to hide during the many dreadful functions he'd been unable to get out of and eventually spotted her. Even knowing who she was, it was hard to recognize her. She was dressed like some nun from his distant childhood. In lieu of a veil, she'd pulled her hair back so severely it looked like it hurt. A small pair of glasses were perched on the tip of her nose.

"Professor Granger, may I have this dance?" She squeaked. Good heavens, she really had turned onto a mouse.

"Prof-Mr. Snape! You want to dance with me?"

"That was the general idea." Now that he'd found her, he was overwhelmed by the urge to find someone else to share his last dance. He was intrigued. "Granger, are you _wearing_ a Notice-Me-Not charm?" he asked.

"Well, yes and no," she answered nervously.

"Explain," he demanded, forgetting himself.

"Well, I started to use it just after the battle. I wore it daily for over a year. After that I just wore it occasionally. You're only the second person who ever realized it. Filius spotted it right away, but has kindly kept his counsel."

"That spell is specifically meant for inanimate objects," he snapped. "Why would you do something so foolish? Take it off."

She grimaced, her tiny glasses riding up as she wrinkled her nose.

"I did, actually. Three years ago. I stopped using it when I made full professor."

"And you're stuck with the residual effects."

"Something like that. Yes."

"Why didn't you ever have it removed? Surely Poppy-"

"I didn't want to! I-I'm not comfortable being seen. Well, I don't mind being seen, I just don't want a spotlight."

Snape tilted his head to the side. "Go on," he prompted.

"At first it was just a way to move about freely. To visit you and the others at St. Mungo's without making headlines. But then I saw what happened to Harry and Ron. How Andromeda Tonks had to move to Canada with little Teddy to get away. The press ruined lives. It ate people. Luna's wedding was totally ruined. And none of them had a reporter with an axe to grind after them. I did."

"Do you still?"

"I'm not sure. Rita Skeeter hated me. I used her secrets as leverage for better coverage of Harry during the Tri-Wizard. She's written a rather nasty book about me that mercifully didn't sell very well."

"And you suffer from panic attacks as well, don't you?

"How did you know?"

"I saw you run from the hall, remember? I have a passing knowledge of such things. How do you get by teaching?"

"Well, my demonstrations aren't the greatest." He saw the ghost of an impish smile. "If I make myself the center of attention, I usually do alright, so I make a lot of noise at the beginning of each class." She smiled at him. "An old teacher taught me that trick."

He smirked.

"Do I get a dance, Professor?"

"If it's all the same to you, I would prefer not. I'm really not much of a dancer and I really don't want to call attention to myself with the press here. They seem to have a vested interest in everyone around you."

"You'll have noticed that there is no one near us at the moment. I suspect you could dance naked and no one would see unless they thought to look for you specifically."

She burst into a peel of laughter that tore away the years and for a moment he saw the silly little girl she'd once been before growing up crushed her.

"True. I wish I had the nerve. I would love to do something shocking once in a while. I admit that there's a down-side to being invisible. No one thinks to look for me anymore."

"There's a significant upside as well, if you don't want anyone to look," he remarked, drolly.

"Well, in your line of work I would think so."

He nodded elegantly at this remark and then stepped back from her. His curiosity had been appeased. She was still who she had been inside. He'd wondered about that. Could a person really change so much that no one recognized them at all anymore? It seemed his answer was no. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"I shall accept my loss with grace, Professor. I bid you good night, and please accept my compliments on your play."

She made a face. "You mean my disaster."

"It had some unfortunate moments. However, I would be interested in reading the script some day."

"Really?"

He scowled in irritation. "Yes, 'really.'"

"I'll send you a copy. Thank you, Mr. Snape, and congratulations on your award."

He watched her as she made her way around the table. When her back was to him, he whipped out his wand and cast a cancellation charm on her, drawing off the residue. She shuddered as if she felt a momentary chill, but then continued her way across the hall towards the exit. No one noticed. She didn't need the charm anymore, not even the residue. She'd become what she'd aimed for. Invisible.

Snape pitied her.

A knot of people wafted over and surrounded him. For a moment, he felt an echo of Granger's anxiety. The feeling of being swallowed up whole by the crowd nearly overpowered him. But then he heard a deep, throaty laugh and was instantly charmed by yet another witch. A beautiful, dark-skinned woman, perhaps a handful of years older than himself, flirtatiously asked for his autograph and handed him a napkin with her Floo-address already on it.

"Alas, dear lady. If I were to start I would be here all night. If you would indulge me, I will see to it you get what you want under more private conditions." He slipped the napkin into his pocket. "Would you care to dance?"

Snape could sympathize with Granger's wanting to be invisible, but he'd had a belly-full of being alone.

* * *

And we're off!

Reviews are lovely...


	3. Nothing But the Truth

**AN:** As ever, a huge thank you to my betas. They really are fab. Anyone who's suffered through reading my review replies knows they are sorely needed. Yup.

* * *

"Oh, Severus…"

"Evalene…"

"I want you so much."

"I understand."

"I feel like you placed me under a spell, and I almost can't resist you."

"There is no spell, Evalene, only the natural magic between a man and a woman since the dawn of time."

"But it cannot be."

Snape's head popped up from where it had been making its way from her neck to her marvelous bosom. "It can't?"

"No, and I'm all right with that. I understand now."

"Well that makes one of us. Perhaps you'd like to clarify a bit?"

"It's Lily, isn't it?"

"Lil-what are you talking about?"

"I can feel her presence. I can feel the love you two shared. Still share. I realize that as much as I want to, if I were to lie with you, I would be defiling one of the greatest loves in Wizarding history."

"Hrmmh?"

"Oh, I know I could entice you. Captivate you. And together we could have a short moment of ecstasy."

"Hang on, what do you mean by short?"

"After all, you are a man-"

"Kind of you to notice."

"-and so easily distracted."

"Evalene-"

She placed her fingers on his lips. "No, Severus. I see the truth now. You would hate me in the morning."

"Why wait until morning?" he muttered as she pushed out of his arms and started to gather her things from around the drawing room.

"I can't do it. I can't be the cause of you breaking faith with your dear, departed Lily. I'm sorry, Severus. But one of us needs to stay strong in this, and being a man, naturally you will fail. So it will have to be me." She conjured a handkerchief out of the air and dabbed at her ridiculously coloured eyes. "I must leave you now, Severus. If I were to stay even a moment longer, I would break. I want you too much."

"Can I offer you some tea?"

"Good-bye, Severus," Miss Dandiwether sobbed dramatically as she dashed over to the mantle and grabbed up the Floo powder. With a shout, a hiccup, and a last, lingering look over her shoulder, she was gone.

Snape flopped onto his back on the chaise lounge. He stared around the room with his head hanging off the end and did a mental inventory of all his new possessions. He'd been quite proud of them right up until three minutes ago. Obviously, they'd failed.

He'd spent the last year of his life searching for and acquiring the perfect decrepit manor house and fixing it. He'd smuggled a Muggle architect in to take charge of the renovations, and the architect's life-partner had chosen the décor. It was intended to be tasteful, with an eye towards subtle masculinity. He'd ended up arguing with the two over the definition of both subtle and masculine. They'd defended their vision of lots of naked statues of young Greek men cavorting until Snape broke from the persona he'd been practicing and managed to make one of them cry in the face of his displeasure. They had finally gave up and furnished it in a way they assured him would impress the gentler sex.

When it was finally done, he'd Obliviated them.

Based on the reaction of She-With-The-Bizarre-Eyes, something was a bit off.

Snape reached down and adjusted his personals. Things were rather distressed down there, having been thwarted at the eleventh hour. He glanced at the clock on the mantle. Actually the sixth hour. They'd not even made it to supper.

"Not to worry, boys. I have another sixteen numbers to try," he said to his bits.

_POP!_ Snape turned his head to see Winky had arrived to announce the meal.

"Dinner is-where's the Miss?"

He looked at her from upside down. "Gone. She ran off to spare me from a short ecstasy."

"Oh. And Blink took such pains with the meal." The house-elf tsked. "Well, Master must be hungry. Yes?"

"Oh, I suppose." Snape scrubbed his face with his hands and got up. He walked out of his drawing room, across the grand foyer, past the doors to the library, and made his way into the dining room. The house really was a show piece. Worth every Galleon he had poured into it. It was not so grand as to overwhelm, and nowhere near as tacky as the Malfoy's. Baroque had its place, but Snape thought it was best when placed in an attic.

He sat down at a table designed for twenty and stared into his leek soup. He knew money couldn't buy happiness. Any idiot who ever heard a useless platitude heard that one first. But he had hoped it could buy a bit of contentedness while he went looking for happiness. So far, that plan was a non-starter. He'd give it some more time, and if it didn't work out, he'd make a new plan. Try on a different life. Anything was better than the life he'd had. Any new persona was better than the man he'd been. He wasn't quite ready to give up on this one yet. He'd put so much effort into it, and it had taken the entire year of renovations for him to get over his fears and set the plan in motion.

He smirked at his soup. It had worked beautifully last night. He'd manage to pull it off without a flaw. They'd bought it, hook, line, and sinker. And well they should have. They'd created it. Oh, yes. He'd paid attention. Even in those first days, when he had hidden in his hovel in constant terror, he'd still read his own press. As he began to uncurl, began to look about and realize he was still alive and everyone that had ever tormented him was not, when he'd finally begun to breathe he realized that the man they had created was infinitely more attractive than the truth. Conveniently, those that knew the truth were dead. He not only could write his own future, he could rewrite his past. He already had, in a moment of sheer, dying-breath, panic-induced genius.

He ate his soup. It was early days yet. He would let them all settle. Perhaps he had tried too soon. Better to let his mystique simmer a bit longer.

He felt the wards shiver and dropped his spoon into the bowl and froze, his mind running through a list of exits.

Winky appeared after a moment, hopping from foot to foot with pleasure. Blink and Bob appeared behind her equally excited.

"Master! Harry Potter is here with his missus! To see you! And he brought a gift!"

"You have more _guests_!" yelled Blink in ecstasy. It had better be a short ecstasy.

Snape closed his eyes and grimaced. He'd done his level best to let bygones be bygones with that boy. Making nice was guaranteed good press. But popping up unexpectedly-Oh! The damned portrait. Right. Not so unexpectedly then. He _could_ tell them to fuck off-revert to the man he actually was-but that would doom him to a hundred more years of sitting alone at this table and eating leek soup.

"Show them into the drawing room, Winky. Let them know I will be there directly." Snape laid down his linen and pushed back from the table. He took one last look at his dinner and then turned and hurried to the loo.

* * *

"Your home is lovely, Mr. Snape. I'm sorry we interrupted your dinner, it was kind of you to ask us to join."

"Not at all, Ginevra, and thank you. Please, call me Severus." Snape was giving them a tour of his house. Potter was hanging back, studying an abstract sculpture made of stone that looked like a giant pile of twisted soft toffee. Severus owned several sculptures, and that one was his favorite. He prayed the prat didn't ask him what it was. He'd only half heard the lecture Frick and Frack had given him on it before he'd wiped it from their minds. He couldn't exactly go back and ask now.

He stopped himself from snapping at Potter to keep up. If Snape wanted a fighting chance at his new life, he needed to not get on the wrong side of the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-His-Life-Hell.

He was back in character and playing it for all it was worth. He'd had years' worth of watching Lucius to have a good idea of what not to do. Lucius might have been on the verge of murdering you, but you rarely knew it until after you were dead. He thought it rude to display too much emotion in front of guests. And he had a tendency to murder his ruder guests.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate you finally accepting your award. You've become a beacon to Harry, and he's been much closer to his old self during the preparations for last night. He seems almost a new man today. Having you finally get your due has really taken a weight off him."

"Really? I had no idea he had so much invested in me." He really hadn't. How odd.

"You wouldn't have. He'd've put on an act when he saw you in hospital, you and everyone else he visited. He's still doing it: jolly, easy Harry, always there for everyone. His confidence can be contagious unless you know he's faking it. Last night was a watershed moment for him: he actually is genuinely content today."

"Interesting." He stood there, outwardly patient, while his thoughts chased around in his head. Granger's word from last night echoed in his mind: _'The press ruined lives. It ate people.'_ Snape was beginning to understand what he'd been warned of. He'd always seen Harry as a glory-hound. The boy lived for fame. If fame had finally crushed Potter, what would it do to him? It was worth thinking about.

"So, Severus," Harry said as he finally gave up his contemplation of the sculpture. "I see you don't have any other paintings. Seems a bit bare without them to me, but then, I have a soft spot for them, myself. Have you given thought to where you want to hang Dumbledore?"

_In an outhouse_, Snape thought. "I'm sure the perfect place will present itself."

"What about your library? It's rather impressive, and I always thought portraits and books went together."

"Did you now? Perhaps I shall." _Like hell_. He wanted to use that library, and he was fairly sure he'd never go in whichever room Albus hung in again. There was a broom cupboard on the first floor…

They'd made their way back to the drawing room, and Snape was about to call Blink for some tea when he saw Bob. Bob was perched on his mantle. Bob was holding the portrait, while perched on the mantle. Dumbledore was twinkling, while Bob was holding him, while perched on the mantle.

Snape opened him mouth to shout just as the distinctive flare of light signaled the activation of an elfin Permanent Sticking Charm.

The Potters walked up just as Bob saw the expression on his Master's face and disappeared with a squeak.

"Oh, I see you decided on the drawing room after all," Harry said.

"Indeed. Tell me Potter, did you ever get rid of that portrait of Black's mother in your house?"

"No, as a matter of fact. We've just learned to live with the old bat."

* * *

Snape was drunk. He was completely and totally bleutered as he wandered in the dark through his enormous house in his old, grey nightshirt. He finally entered the drawing room.

"You are an evil man, Albus. I don't want you here. Go fuck off to your other portraits and leave me be."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic Severus. Sit down and tell me what you have been doing with yourself."

"No. I won't tell you anything. You'll find a way to use it to your advantage, and then you'll have me risking my neck again and nearly dying several times a week, twice as often in any month with a full moon. I'm done with you. You're dead. I should know." Snape lurched over to the decanter and poured himself a brandy before wobbling to the chaise lounge and flopping down on it. He licked the spilled drink off his hand.

"You don't actually have to tell me anything. I already know quite a lot. I know you gave Harry some very, very altered memories. Painted yourself quite a picture, I fear. What was the point in that?"

Snape flung a hand at the surrounding room. "This was the point in that."

"No it wasn't; this was an accident. Were you trying to alter your place in history, Severus?"

"So what if I was? Can you blame me? Who the hell wants to be remembered for his ability to be terrified for twenty solid years?"

"Oh, my boy. You were always too hard on yourself."

"Which you never failed to exploit. Oh, yes Albus. I've had some time to think, you know. I see how you played me. I thought I already knew how badly you manipulated me, but no, that wasn't enough. You set me up to die from the beginning."

"Nonsense. That didn't occur to me until much later on. But you have to admit, it worked out well."

"Sod off."

"Now, now, my boy-"

"What do you want, Albus?"

"I heard Kingsley offered you a seat on the Wizengamot."

"Oh for fuck's sake. Really? Really, Albus? You want me to go into government so you have a living mouth piece?"

"There are still problems that need to be worked out, and you are the perfect person through whom they can be fixed. There are still rogue elements that should be seen to."

"Get Potter to do it. He's the Auror."

"You have to admit, we did make a successful team when you were Headmaster."

"GAH! No, we didn't! It was a nightmare, Albus; that wasn't teamwork, it was blackmail! The blackest coercion! I don't want to be used anymore."

"Severus, I think you misremember things."

"I remember everything."

"Just give Kingsley's idea some thought."

Snape finished his drink and folded his arms.

"Why not put Harry in the Wizengamot?"

"He hasn't reached sufficient age."

"Change the rules, you're probably the reason he's Head of the Auror Department at-how old is he now, twelve?"

"Twenty-two"

"Same as like."

"Severus, it would fit in with the new you. You can stay dark and mysterious, just add being a respected elder and wise counsel."

"I'm barely elder enough myself, you know."

"Yes, but you look so much older than you really are. That's a bonus."

"And whose fault is that? You and your mad schemes aged me before my time."

"Sleep on it, my boy."

"Albus, you're just a portrait. The real you is dead as a doornail. You can't manipulate an entire government as a portrait."

"Headmasters' portraits are imbued with a more intense personality matrix for the express purpose of advice."

"So that means even dead, you're still just an old poof with control issues."

"Basically."

"You do know I hate you intensely."

"So you've told me before."

"You won't let me say no, will you?"

"Honestly, Severus. When have I ever not known what the right course of action was?"

Severus flung his glass into the fire.

* * *

"Oh, Mr. Snape! What a big library you have!"

"Call me Severus, my dear. Wine?"

"Thank you. Did you read all these books?"

"Most of them."

"I bet it was something to do in a vain effort to keep the loneliness away."

"True. I was…lonely."

"It must be awful."

"I'm hoping it will get better."

"I imagine it must be a relief that the world knows of your one, true love. Now you can mourn her openly."

"Not again."

"I can just feel Lily's presence. This house feels like it was designed for her."

"Honestly? It was-"

"Oh, Severus! I just can't!"

"No, really, you can."

"I feel I would despoil something sacred."

"Where are you going? You've only been here five minutes!"

"I must go! I almost did something terrible!"

_WHOOSH!_

BONK_. bonkbonkbonk_

_POP!_

"Dinner is-where's the new Miss? Why is Master smashing his head against the bookcase? Were you bad?"

"I didn't get a chance to be bad. I didn't get the chance to be good, either."

"Winky is telling Blink to not make dinner for your Misses anymore. Blink is wasting food. Master Snape has lost five Misses already.

* * *

"I can feel your love of Lily in the twisted and tortured lines."

"Oh, do tell."

"Well, it's obvious isn't it? The stone represents your immutable feelings for her and the fluid, graceful curves turning in on themselves represent the joy your self-torture brings you."

"You don't say."

"Oh, Severus-

"Here we go."

"I just can't…"

"How unexpected. Nope. Wrong way. The Floo's in the Drawing Room to the left."

_POP!_

"Gone."

"Master's soup is getting cold. She took too long."

"She liked sculpture."

* * *

Snape rattled around his house alone and bored out of his skull. His only companions were the three house-elves that had been a gift from Hogwarts. They weren't much for conversation. It had been a week since he'd seen another human. He couldn't bear going through the motions one more time. The press was still camped outside his door waiting to see what lady would show up next. The front pages had been full of pictures of him in increasingly less-than-flattering photos. He'd tried keeping his face a mask, but they had taken to shouting the most reprehensible things in an effort to provoke a photo opportunity they could later attribute to whatever story they made up. He'd taken to not leaving at all. He was trapped.

He turned on a sudden thought and made his way to the drawing room.

"Severus, my boy! Have you given anymore thought to our plan?"

"Yep." He grabbed some Floo powder and tossed it in. "Spinner's End!"

If he was going to be miserable and alone, he would do it where it felt normal.

* * *

Snape sat in his deplorable chair next to his miserable coal stove surrounded by hundreds of empty shelves. He picked up the paper an owl had delivered that morning while he'd been eating his burnt eggs and toast. He'd taken to cooking for himself, the house-elves were a bit too vocal on his solitary lifestyle, so he'd banned them.

Unrolling it, he opened the paper to see if the press had lost interest in him yet. The first page held the screaming headline:

**GRANGER GRABBED!**

Hogwarts' Professor Kidnapped!

Death Eaters Claim Responsibility!

"No one saw a thing," says Headmistress.

"Oh, shit!" he said to the walls. "Someone noticed her!" He crumpled the paper in his lap as the blood drained from his unshaven face. Death Eaters knew about Spinner's End. _Everyone_ knew about Spinner's End. He jumped up and ran to the loo.

* * *

I do hope you liked that chapter as much as I like writing it! I think it might be my fav.

Reviews feed the Muse. Oooo, a Rhyme!


	4. The Spy Rides Again

AN: Thank you to my betas. As ever, it would be a much lesser work with out them. Apologies for any delay on review replies, I'm out of town and don't always have access to a comp. Darn it.

* * *

"Walk me through it all one more time, Minerva," Harry said. His Aurors had done the preliminary investigation. Harry was following up. They had nothing. Nothing but the note, and that hadn't said much.

Minerva set her tea cup down on the desk in Harry's office. "Well, it's rather embarrassing to admit-" She was interrupted by the office door flying open. Harry's assistant was yelling at the man in the doorway that he couldn't just barge in there. Uselessly, since he already had. Harry stared at the man, stunned. And then he began to feel hope for the first time since Minerva had Flooed him yesterday morning.

"Ron!"

"What happened to her, Harry? The papers say it was Death Eaters. What are you doing about it? Where have you looked? What clues do you have?"

"When is that last time you saw her, Ron?"

"At Snape's party. Three weeks ago."

"She didn't say anything to you about receiving threats? Or feeling unsafe?"

"No, nothing. She was just Hermione, like always."

"Come sit. Tea? Minerva was about to retell what happened."

Minerva went on to explain that Hermione Granger had finished up her classes for the day on Friday, eaten her meal, chased a few students out of darkened corners after curfew while making her rounds, said good night to the Grey Lady around eleven o'clock as she entered her quarters, and was never seen again. No one noticed anything was amiss until her first class yesterday morning. Minerva had followed the sound of students run amok and found the class completely unsupervised. She'd immediately gone to see if Hermione had taken ill and found her room was empty. The bed was made. Everything was neat as a pin. The only thing out-of-place was the note-a note dated Friday. Hermione had been missing for two days already, and no one had noticed.

"Five million Galleons? Bloody hell! Who has that kind of money? Ransom wasn't exactly their style, was it? Are we sure they're real Death Eaters?" said Ron.

"I think so," answered Harry. "I think the intent is to bankrupt the Ministry."

"What makes you think that?" asked Minerva.

"Something Albus said when I was talking to his portrait earlier."

"What are we supposed to do?" asked Ron.

"I think we should do exactly what the note says."

"What? Wait for their portkey and send one man alone with a Goblin Promissory Note? Anyone who gets their hands on that Note will be able to take it to any Gringotts in the world and have it honored. How do we know they won't kill her anyway? How do we know she's not already dead?"

"We don't, Ron," Harry said quietly. His voice broke.

"So, who's going to go? Me or you?"

"I think there's a better choice. Someone with experience with Death Eaters. Someone who won't flinch if the situation turns deadly. Someone who can think on his feet and has skills we could only dream about."

"Snape," said Ron.

"Snape," confirmed Harry.

"Oh, good heavens!" exclaimed Minerva.

* * *

The Floo in the drawing room activated, and a man shot out of the flames and streaked across the drawing room in a mass of flapping black robes.

"Severus! Good, you've- Come back here!"

"No!"

"Snape! You stop right now!"

"Fuck you, Albus!"

The man hit the foyer tiles at a dead run and nearly slewed into the wall as he turned and fled up the stairs.

"You coward!" shouted the portrait before leaving his frame in a huff to return to the Ministry.

* * *

Severus Snape felt the tingling in the wards and knew his doom was upon him. He sat on his bed holding his head in his hands as Winky popped into the room. He'd done his level best to stick his head in the sand to no avail.

"Yes?"

"Harry Potter is here to see you, Master. And his friend too. And the Headmistress. And a couple of them Aurors, as well."

He sighed. "Send them into the Library, Winky, and offer them some tea. Tell them I should be with them shortly."

When the elf popped out of the room, Snape turned to look at his reflection in the mirror. This was it then. Again. His life never seemed to lack these moments when it came down to acting on his instincts and running for the hills, or doing what others made him do which only ever added to his own pain and suffering.

All because he was afraid people would know he was actually a coward. It was his secret shame. He had lived his entire adult life in hell because the people that knew his secret had wielded such terrible power over him.

He had mistakenly thought he was free. He thought he could rise above it all and reinvent himself, but his past had had itself installed in his drawing room. Permanently. Snape could dance to its tune, or he could admit he was a fraud and be spared. It wasn't like he was losing much. He had things. He wouldn't lose his things; just his war pension-and probably the tens of thousands of Galleons that had come with the award-but he had enough money hidden away or invested wisely that he wouldn't starve. He'd just be alone. A pariah. Not so different, when you looked at it.

Even the fact that a young woman was in trouble due to his own stupidity was horribly familiar.

Snape set his shoulders and stood up. If he was going to go to his doom, he would do so clean. He headed for the bathroom to take a shower and shave.

* * *

Harry was pacing back and forth in the Library. His two men were positioned discretely against the wall awaiting instruction. Minerva was seated calmly at a table sipping tea. Ron was out in the hall staring at that weird, melted stone sculpture. From the look on his face, he couldn't make heads or tails out of it either.

After what seemed like forever, Harry heard a disturbance at the door and looked up.

There he was, as darkly imposing as ever.

Harry felt an instant of intense relief, and even Ron let out a reassured sigh. He had an almost irrational sense that, despite everything, life would be fine now. He practically ran over to the doorway.

"Severus! I am so glad you agreed to see us. I'm sure everything will be fine now that you're here." He held his hand out, and Snape shook it.

"Mr. Potter. How can I be of service?"

* * *

"That was a wonderful thing you just did," said Minerva as she came back into the room. Snape sat at a reading table looking like the picture of abject misery.

"That was probably one of the stupidest things I have done in a life filled with stupid things."

"Nonsense. You gave them hope. And I suspect you might have repaired a broken friendship. At least, they were certainly chattering away as they left."

"I could get the girl killed, Minerva. That seems to be my forte."

Minerva put a hand on his arm. "I believe that life happens for certain reasons, Severus. Perhaps this is a chance to do things differently, to take a past mistake and turn it into a future blessing. They came to you because of your past. They don't know your whole story-no one does-but what they see gives them hope. What I see gives me tremendous hope." She sat down in the next chair. "Severus, if something happens to her, it won't be your fault. It will be the fault of the men who took her. We don't even know if she's still alive. I understand your fears, but perhaps the reason why you accepted is because you've already changed and didn't notice?"

"No. I'm pretty sure I would notice if I suddenly stopped trying to wet myself, Min."

"Bah. You haven't run to the toilet even once since you accepted."

"I'm just numb from my own stupidity. I'm sure it will kick in any moment."

"Well, until then, what does a lady need to do to get something to eat around here?"

"Actually, she has to order it herself. The house-elves will only cook one meal no matter how many I say are dining. Winky!"

* * *

"All right, Severus. This is it. The portkey came this morning. It is keyed to activate when pressed against a valid Goblin Promissory Note. We've been unable to determine where it will send you, but we know it can't be reactivated." Harry took a deep breath and looked over at Ron, who nodded encouragingly. "I know I'm probably going to sound like a hopeless prat, and you probably have most of these devices already-hell, you might have invented them for all I know-but I took the liberty of requisitioning some items that might be of use to you."

"Did you? Interesting. I might as well see what you brought, since you went to the trouble."

"Well, there's this." He handed over a bent key. "This will bring you and Hermione straight back here." He held up a large, red marble, and then handed that over as well. "This is a tracking device. We'll be able to tell exactly where you go by looking on any map using a special spell." Ron held up a world atlas. "Also, we have this." He handed over a large wooden block. It looked like an oversized toddler toy. "If for some reason you cannot portkey out, or you need back up. Just throw this on the ground. It will provide a shield and send up a pre-set Patronus so we can move in to your location." Harry blanched and teared up. "If-If she's dead. Use the block. We will need to secure the crime scene."

Snape looked at the crestfallen young man that he had spent his life trying to protect. He felt none of his old animosity. In fact, the boy's obvious adoration was like an addictive drug. No one had ever trusted him so blindly or held such a high opinion of him before. Snape had walked into his library the other day intending to confess. But seeing the effect his mere presence had on Potter and Weasley had thrown him off his game. He'd heard the most ridiculous words come out of his mouth. It was about to happen again. He just knew he was about to say something stupid as he clumsily juggled the objects into one arm and reached out and gripped Potter's shoulder.

"She'll be alright, Harry. I promise."

"Yes, sir. I'm sure you're right."

Ron came over and just stood close to his old friend, offering support through his proximity.

"Good Luck, Snape," said Ron. "We'll be right here waiting. If you need any help, just use that block to give us a shout."

Snape looked about the room at the twenty or so Aurors that were crammed into his library. They all stared at him with an absurd amount of confidence and high regard. He gave them all a brittle smile. It was supposed to have been a reassuring smile, a confident smile, but it had gone horrible awry when his bladder started to scream.

"Just give me a few moments, gentlemen. I need to make sure I have everything I need." Snape turned on his heel and walked out of the room. He managed to look calm and natural as he made his way down the hall to the bathroom. He fumbled with all the items Harry had given him. He'd never know just how grateful Snape was for each and every thoughtful gadget. Once inside, he carefully set them all down and then relieved himself. He stared at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands.

"You can do this, Snape. You're not the same man you were. No one is holding a wand to your head if you fail. No one is going to Crucio you, beat you, whip you, or humiliate you. The worst is in your past. If you die, you just get out of having to do whatever Dumbledore has in store for you. Besides, the girl would have been perfectly fine if you hadn't meddled. You owe her. Those starry-eyed pillocks are counting on you so get your arse out there and deliver the goods." He took a deep breath and set his shoulders. "Right. Here goes."

* * *

Snape strode back into the library. His cape billowed behind him, and his face was a mask of purpose. Harry was struck by the overwhelming confidence Snape exuded. He was in awe of the man. He looked over at Ron, and Ron smiled at him with that same goofy, happy smile he'd always shared and mouthed, '_Wicked._'

"Shall we get on with this, Potter? I have plans for this evening." The Aurors around the room were elbowing each other and nodding at Snape's blasé demeanor. All in a day's work for the Master Spy.

"Yes, sir. Here's your portkey and here's the Goblin Promissory Note. Just touch the two together and say 'Portus.'"

Snape pulled out his wand and gripped it tight as he took what looked like a small figurine of a dancing sprite. He looked at it curiously for a moment. Tucking the sprite in his hand he picked up the Note. "Is this real?"

"If it wasn't, we were afraid the portkey wouldn't work."

"Whose Galleons were staked?"

"Everyone's. It's the taxes the Ministry hadn't disbursed yet, nearly to the knut. It's almost time. The ransom note said to come at eight o'clock."

Snape lifted a brow and looked at the clock on the wall. It showed about twenty minutes to eight. Snape closed his hand around the figurine and the note, and with a disdainful _'Portus,'_ he disappeared with a pop.

"Bloody hell! He's got brass ones, doesn't he?" said one of the Aurors.

"Did he have all the stuff you gave him?" asked Ron.

Harry shrugged. "I'm sure he had them on him somewhere. I'm sure a spy would have tons of pockets to hide things."

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense. For a minute I was afraid he might have left without them."

"Don't be daft. If he left ours, it's only because he had better."

"Let's open that atlas and see where he landed."

Ron mumbled the spell.

Harry mumbled the spell.

Auror Higgins, when prompted by his boss, shouted the spell. He'd been the one to research it.

Nothing happened.

"You don't think…?"

"That they have some way of blocking our gadgets? Yeah. I do."

"This can't be good. He's on his own."

"Who better to handle it?"

"True."

* * *

Resting undisturbed by the sink in the bathroom lay all of Harry's gadgets, left behind in a moment of panic.

* * *

More fun is on the way! -signed, the Review Hoor.


	5. Dark Is as Dark Does

AN: I decided to use the Death Eater masks from the movies, because they're just plain kewler than the cloth ones from the book. You know it's the truth...

Thanks go to the usual suspects. This wouldn't have made it off the ground without them!

* * *

Snape landed in the middle of a broken-down farmhouse. The roof was gone, and the stone walls had crumbled almost to the ground in places. He didn't really notice these things until later.

The first thing he noticed was the Expelliarmus that flipped him over the wall.

He had the presence of mind to fight the spell and retain hold of the Portkey and Note, but lost his wand in the process. He quickly shoved the other items under a pile of mouldy straw when he landed. Wandless, he scrambled to his hands and knees and crawled away from where he fell.

"Grab him!"

"They cheated-!"

"They _did_ send Snape!"

"-no one was supposed to come until eight!"

"We're gonna die!"

Snape grabbed up a rock and flipped over onto his back as the sound of footsteps came around the wall. As soon as he saw a masked face, he flung the rock. It hit with a sickening smack, and the mask split apart. Snape was already moving again.

"My eye! My eye! He took out my effing eye!" He reached a taller wall and stood up and bolted for the barn. He jumped and hurtled through the gaping window and landed hard enough to see stars.

"Where'd he go?"

Snape was reasonably sure of two things. First, there were four of them. Second, that these berks had never even spent five minutes in the same building as the Dark Lord; they were completely incompetent. Snape found himself curiously insulted that such idiots would pass themselves off as Death Eaters and be believed. Want to play in the Dark, do they? Well. He'd show them. He may not have been the most terrifying of the lot, but by Circe's Magic Teat, he'd been one.

He crept closer to the window and lifted his hand up to the hole.

"_Accio Wand._" he commanded.

"Hey!"

His wand slapped into his palm, and he rolled away from the hole just as the wall blew apart. Snape barely stopped the yelp that tried to spring out of his lungs and forced his mind to ignore the urgent call of his bladder. Logic dictated that he couldn't need to go that badly if he'd only gone five minutes ago. Remembering that reminded him of a few other things-namely, everything he'd been supposed to bring that might have saved him.

"Oh, bollocks."

It was up to him now. He was completely on his own with Granger's life in his hands. Provided she wasn't already dead.

Snape closed his eyes. _All or nothing, old man_, he thought. He gripped his wand and shouted,

_"MORSMORDRE!"_

_

* * *

_

Hermione struggled with her bonds. She'd sawed through some of the layers of magical rope that bound her, but there seemed to be thousands more to go. She'd been working at it slowly for the past several days, but when she heard sounds of a struggle, her movements had become frantic. The idiots that held her captive never bothered to check when they came to bring her food and clean the chamber pot. She couldn't make more than a few squeaking noises since the ropes also gagged her. She continued to rub her arms up and down against the rough stone corner frantically.

She flinched as she heard screams and yelling, and then the sound of a tremendous blast. She cowered as rocks and pebbles rained down on her. She'd just gotten herself back up and started in on her bindings again when she heard a shout that made her blood go cold.

She saw the Dark Mark bloom across the sky. It was impossibly large, and she whimpered as the snake slithered out of the skull's mouth. Two of her captors started to whimper as well, and they all turned on each other screaming imprecations and blame.

"You said the Death Eaters were all gone, Jonesy!"

"Well, we knew Snape was still around!"

A black streak rocketed up into the sky and came to a stop, spreading wings. No, wait. Those were sleeves. That was Snape! Hermione's heart stuttered in her chest.

"_HOW DARE YOU INVOKE THE DARK LORD'S NAME!_" he shouted. Obviously he'd employed a Sonorus Charm. "_FOOLISH IMBICILES! PREPARE TO PAY WITH YOUR LIVES!_"

Snape brought his arms in and stooped like a hawk. He led off with an "_AVADA KEDAVRA!,_" which shocked not only Hermione, but the man at whom it had been aimed. It missed. The man wasted no time Apparating out of there. Snape shot more deadly curses as he came in with the air screaming in pain behind him. His Sonorous Charm added extra terror-"_CONFRINGO!_" -"_SECTUMSEMPRA!_"-"_EXPULSO!_" The sound of the explosions was deafening. Hermione felt more than heard two displacement pops and hoped they represented more of her captors leaving and not reinforcements arriving. Just as Snape turned to climb back up into the sky, he turned his head and saw her. He aimed his wand at her and bellowed "_RELASHIO,_" just as he was hit with a Stupefy-"_OW! FUCK!_"-and dropped like a stone on the far side of the house.

She was free. She wiggled out of the last, broken pieces of magical rope that hadn't disintegrated and grabbed up an old, rusty pitchfork, struggling to grip it in her nearly numb hands. She scrambled over the broken wall at her back and started to make her way along the foundation of the house. From the corner she could see where Snape had landed on an ancient hay bale that seemed to have broken his fall somewhat. He looked quite dead where he lay at the end of about thirty feet of scattered, rotted hay and weeds.

An unknown man was creeping out towards Snape ahead of her with his wand drawn. Hermione crouched low and scurried in as quietly as she could. The man turned when she got close, and when he saw her running at him with the rusty tines of the pitchfork aimed at his face, his eyes bulged out. He continued his spin and disappeared with a bang. Hermione gagged as she saw three fingers fall to the ground.

She whirled in a circle with her pitchfork, but didn't see anyone. Surely if someone was still here, they would have picked her off by now. She turned again and ran over to where Snape was still lying face down in the field beyond the house.

She felt his neck for a pulse, and he screamed and flipped over, knocking her sideways to the ground. "Well, you're not dead, thank the heavens," she said, brushing mouldy hay out of her mouth.

"Granger?"

"Hello, Mr. Snape. Thank you very much for rescuing me."

"Did I? I did!" He dropped his head back onto the ground and groaned.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere. Including my pride. I missed every single one of the bastards."

"Well, I still think you were quite marvelous, and it must have been next to impossible to hit something while flying that fast. Do you have your wand? Mine's back in Hogwarts. If I can borrow yours, I can fix you up in a jiffy."

Snape held a scraped hand up to reveal a broken stump of wand.

"Oh dear. I'm afraid I'm not very good at wandless magic."

"Oh dear, indeed. We need to hide, Granger. They could come back at any moment. First, we must recover the figurine Potter gave me as a Portkey and the Goblin Promissory Note. I hid them under some leaves near the wall where I first landed. I think it used to be a bedroom."

"We should probably grab those fingers to," she added.

"Fingers?"

Hermione explained about the Apparition injury.

"Oh, yes, definitely we should. We shouldn't go too far. The Ministry should be on its way. The Dark Mark should bring them as soon as someone reports it. Also, and might I say paramount, you need to bathe. You stink. You go do that while I have a quick kip."

Hermione stared at him in surprise as he closed his eyes. His jaw went slack, and she realized he had passed out. He probably had a concussion.

"Mr. Snape? Snape!" She shook him. He opened his eyes, and she was surprised at just how dark they were as they rolled around uselessly. "Snape, you mustn't sleep!"

"Oh, please?" he whined. "Just a few more minutes?"

"No! Severus Snape, you get up right this minute!"

"Mum?" His eyes focused on her briefly. "Who th'ell are you?"

"Oh, Merlin. Please be alright!" She watched his eyes slide up, and he was gone again.

* * *

"They should have been back already, mate."

"I know, Ron. I think we've no choice but to assume something went wrong."

"So, what do we do now?"

"Well, I can't think of anything but to head out there and start looking. Put a word into the paper and hope a good citizen saw something. We'll leave Higgins here to call us if they return."

"How are we going to look for them if we're not even sure what country they're in?"

"Carefully, mate. Very carefully."

* * *

Snape woke up when he felt something crawling across his face.

"Gah!" he squealed and reached for his wand only to come up with its shattered remains. Memory filtered in, along with an intense pain in his skull that felt like a sharp spike and its many little shard friends.

"Mr. Snape?"

"Granger?"

"Oh, thank the Lord you are alright! I thought you were in a coma!"

"I wish I was. Good gods, my head hurts."

"You have a concussion."

"Where are we?"

"Still in the same place. I couldn't move you."

"Is it dark out? Or am I blind?"

"No, it's full dark. The sun set over an hour ago. The clouds are pretty thick. I think it's going to rain."

"And no one's come?"

"No."

"Oh, hell." He tried to sit up, but flipped over on his hands and knees and hung his head. He panted from the pain. "Granger, are you hurt? Did they…harm you?"

"I'm fine, considering. It was terrifying at first, but waiting for the worst actually gets a little boring after the first two days. They kept me tied up and ignored me most of the time. They didn't lay a hand on me, if that is your worry. You should lie still."

"I should get you out of here." He gingerly sat back on his haunches and slowly lifted his head.

"True, but I don't think you can make it very far."

"I have hidden reserves, Granger."

"I don't doubt that for a minute. You're a rather remarkable man."

Snape preened under her praise, but then felt curiously guilty. His conscience didn't seem to like playing his role with her. It was probably because his head hurt too much. He fell back on an old trick and tried to direct his magic toward his injuries. This wasn't the first time he'd been left wandless and half-dead.

"Before you succumb to hero worship, you should probably know that this was my fault."

"Your fault? How?"

"They noticed you because I snatched the spell residue off you that night of the awards banquet."

"You did? Why?"

He stared at the blurry form he assumed was her.

"I'm not sure. I thought it was stupid for you to be running around invisible and obviously unhappy about it. I thought you should be noticed. I don't know what the hell I thought. I'm sorry I interfered."

"Obviously unhappy?" Her voice held surprise.

"Well, weren't you?"

"To be honest? Yes, but I'd grown used to it. I'm just surprised you could tell in such a short conversation."

"I noticed earlier than that. Our conversation just confirmed it."

"How?"

He sighed and struggled to gain his feet. She rushed up under his arm to steady him.

"You really can't go anywhere, Mr. Snape. We should find somewhere better to hide and wait until morning. You're in no condition to go stumbling about in the dark."

"I think you're right. And call me Severus. Seems silly to stand on formality. Why are you damp?"

"You told me I stank and ordered me to bathe."

"I did? How rude. My apologies." He pointed to an even darker mass in the darkness. "Is that the barn?"

"Yes."

"Let's make for that."

They stumbled along tripping over rocks and small hummocks along the way.

"So, back to you noticing I was unhappy. I'm still curious about that."

"Granger, before the Final Battle, you were an irritating thorn in my backside, a know-it-all, and an over-achieving little tyrant. A rather striking difference from the mouse of a teacher that couldn't get her students attention even when she was standing right in front of them thumping the stage." He flapped an arm in an effort to grab a further explanation from the cool night air. "I suppose to others you changed slowly enough that they didn't notice. To me, it was night and day." He dropped his arm. His head hurt too much to bother thinking any more.

"I suppose that makes a great deal of sense," she said. "I don't bear you any grudge for removing the residue. I would have preferred you told me, but I have to admit that I didn't notice I could be noticed."

"You'd perfected it. You didn't need magic to disappear, and the people you worked with were programmed to not see you." He stopped talking for a moment and tried to chase down the thought that was eluding him because of the pain. "Granger, remind me I just said that when my head isn't trying to explode. I just said something important, but don't know what."

"Alright."

They made their way into the barn and felt around for a place to sleep. Snape decided to sleep sitting against the wall. He feared the pain that would set in when the blood rushed to his head if he were to lie down completely.

Hermione stayed tucked under his arm and did the same. He thought about pushing her away, but the night was a bit chilly, and it was his fault she was damp.

* * *

Back at the Ministry, Harry was issuing orders and dealing with chaos. He stomped into his office and slammed the door. Ron straightened up in the chair and snatched his feet off of Harry's desk.

"Anything?" he asked.

"Too much. We have thirty-two reports of Death Eater activity by citizens, and the papers haven't even put out our appeal for information yet."

"Stop the papers. Don't let them print the appeal. Maybe we already have them."

"I did," said Harry. He looked at Ron and smiled. "I've missed you, Ron. I missed the way your mind works."

Ron gave him a small smile back. "Yeah, mate. I missed you, too." They both grew uncomfortable with the unsaid hanging about them. Ron started to fidget with things on Harry's desk while Harry scrubbed at his hair, making it stand straight up.

"You should probably go home to Lavender and the kids. It's midnight. There's nothing you can do until the morning. I've got teams on all the leads. So far they're the result of either hysteria or alcohol-induced hallucinations, but we'll keep tracking them down. I'll let you know if something happens."

"Are you going home?" Ron asked.

Harry just shook his head.

"Then I'll stay as well."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Ron grew truculent. "She's my friend too, Harry. Something terrible's happened to her, and I want to help. Now why don't you give me one of your leads, and I'll go chase it down. Unless you have so many people that you don't need an extra hand?"

Harry sighed. "No, we're rather short-handed, to be honest. You want to help? Then stay here with me, and go over these reports. You always did see things that Hermione and I didn't. Maybe you'll spot something in this mess. I'm full up just organizing the search and keeping my teams from screw-ups. Three teams all went and woke up the same elderly witch who had reported a Death Eater milking her cow."

"Have you consulted Dumbledore's portrait lately? Does he have any advice?"

"No, I've been too busy."

"Well, there's nothing new to tell him, and it's not like he's going anywhere."

* * *

A dull throb erupted in the head of Severus Snape as the morning light crossed his eyes. He tried to rub them, but his arm wouldn't respond. He opened them and found Granger was sleeping on it, and it had gone completely numb. They were huddled together on the dirt floor of the barn, and he had one of her legs shoved between his thighs. Probably that should spawn over a dozen differing reactions, but his head hurt too much. He pushed her leg off him and dragged his arm out from under her. She stirred, gave a grunt, and broke wind. Snape scowled at her for her rudeness, but she had sunk back into sleep. He sat up, reeling from they way it seemed the world tilted at an angle. He head pounded out a complaint in code on the inside of his skull, but he was content with the knowledge it wasn't as bad as it had been last night. Last night, his head had overwhelmed the pain in his back. This morning he was more than aware of it; he was in agony. Sleeping in a heap on the floor had probably done wonders for the muscles he had pulled or torn as he had flipped end over end whilst making his graceful landing. All in all, it wasn't a complete cock up. He wasn't dead, and other than his skull, he hadn't broken anything important. He hissed as the blood rushing back into his arm begat yet another torment. Granger opened her eyes in fright.

"What-Who-?"

He palmed her mouth.

"Shh! We don't know if we're alone," he said in a whisper. He watched her as awareness and memory filled in the blanks, and then she nodded. He pulled his hand back as she struggled to sit up. She hopped up on her knees and looked out the window carefully. She looked dreadful. She was wearing a tattered and torn cotton dressing-gown over a ruined cotton nightgown. Both had once been white, and both had once probably been meant for birth control. There couldn't be anything less sexy to sleep in on the planet. She was wearing fuzzy slippers that were caked with mud. Her hair was full of dirt and bits of leaves and old hay. Most of it had escaped the bun she still wore.

She turned to him and shook her head. "I'm pretty sure we're alone."

"Do you sleep with your hair up? Or did they grab you before you had a chance to take it down?" he asked suddenly.

She looked at him in confusion, and then raised her hand to feel at her hair while looking at the wall as if the memory was there.

"They must have got me before. I always brush it out and braid it for bed. I hadn't thought of that. I thought they grabbed me out of bed."

"Not unless they made the bed after they had you."

"I have no memory of it."

"Do you always wear that robe in your rooms? Or would you have put it on when you heard a knock at your door?"

Her eyes brightened. "I would have put it on to answer the door! My rooms get quite warm this time of year."

"You said 'my wand is at Hogwarts' last night. Why are you so sure?"

"I-" She stopped speaking and again, her eyes lit up from excitement. "I remember laying my glasses next to it on my bedside table. I had a new journal I was looking forward to reading, and I put them on top of it. That must have been when they came. I got to my rooms around eleven, so that would have been around eleven forty-five."

"Interesting."

"What do you think it all means?"

"I think it's rather obvious. Either someone from Hogwarts let your kidnappers in, perhaps under Imperius..."

"Or?"

"Or you were kidnapped by someone who works at Hogwarts."

He grabbed onto the rotted windowsill and hauled himself up slowly.

"Let's figure out where the hell we are, Granger. There are some things we need to gather as well."

She held up a sack she had made from tearing off part of her bathrobe. "Goblin Note. Figurine. The broken pieces of your wand. Bits of the rope they used to tie me up. It was spell rope, but the parts I had cut through didn't disintegrate, so I thought we could match them to a wand. I found a long flat piece of metal that I used to cut my dressing-gown with; if we find a good stone we can perhaps make a weapon? Also, a book someone was reading, and three fingers."

"Fingers?" he asked. She explained again. "I seem to have holes in my short-term memory. Just what we need." He nodded at her gruesome parcel. "Excellent work. Good thinking. Any other clues?"

"Not that I saw, but my eyesight isn't to be trusted. I think you should have a look."

He nodded and made his way slowly to the barn doors.

He stopped when he saw an ancient piece of paper tacked to the wall by the door.

"Well. A bit of luck after all. We're in England." He pointed to the advert for a feed store in Glossop. "And if that was the closest feed store then we can find our way to Manchester."

"Why Manchester? Why not just head to Glossop and call for help there?"

"First, because they knew I was coming. As far as I know, the only people that knew I was coming were your precious Potter's Aurors. I'm not inclined to trust any of them until we know more. Second," he looked at her and smirked. "I have a home in Manchester."

He stepped out into the barnyard and looked around the fog. "I can't tell in this gloom, but I suspect we're in the northern Peak District. Which way did you see the sun go down?" She pointed to a spot on the horizon. "That's the way we need to go. Now let's go look for more clues and then get the hell out of here. It looks like it's finally going to rain."

* * *

Ron burst through the door to find Harry face down on his desk clutching a quill. He popped up and looked around, trying to focus his eyes, before he looked down and picked up his glasses.

"Sorry, Harry, did you get any sleep at all?"

"I think that was it." He looked up at the clock. "Fifteen minutes should see me through another two hours. What have you got?"

"The man that said he saw the Dark Mark in the sky-"

"Which one? Six of them did, from one end of Britain to the other."

"The one on his broom."

"Him? He admitted he was drunk."

"Yeah, but there's just something about his account. It fits the time frame of when Snape would have arrived. He wasn't too drunk to note the time."

"Wasn't he flying across the Peak? That's a lot of open country."

"True, but if we figure out when he started out, when he saw it, what route he was flying, and when he got home, we can narrow it down a good bit."

"Ron, you're a genius!" Harry popped up and ran around his desk and stuck his head out the door. "Midgely! Get in here!" A short, stout woman jumped up and came running. Harry snatched the paper out of Ron's hand and thrust it at her. "You and Mathersby bring this guy in for further questioning. Tell him he might get a reward if he cooperates. Fast, Midge!"

"Yes, boss!"

"Newtskipper!"

"Yes, boss?"

"Bring me last night's Muggle police reports for all the areas surrounding the Peak District!"

"On it, sir!"

* * *

AN2: Apologies for the delay and the late review replies. I'm excavating my late father's house all this week and I've been too tired to blink, never mind type. However, I cherish each and every one. I do. You guys are the best.


	6. The Benoni Defense

**AN**: Thanks to Dressagegrrrl and Whitehound for beta and Hebe GB for cheerleading! Enjoy!

* * *

Snape regretted his foolishness. He'd tired of Granger's fawning gratitude and meek disposition early on in their trek to safety and had decided to see if he could provoke her and find her old backbone. He had. He'd since maintained an internal dialogue that basically amounted to a long lecture on the subject of altruistic impulses directed at Granger being bad for his disposition in general and his health in particular. The sound of her voice now made his teeth hurt.

"I think it was foolish," she lectured on.

"It wasn't."

"So you say, but to my mind it was unnecessarily obtuse."

"Oh, do shut up, woman. I'm tired of your prattling. We've only been walking for two hours, and I already want to push you off a cliff."

Hermione squealed and planted her hands on her hips.

Snape had to stop and walk back to her.

"Why are you being such a prat?"

"Because I _am _a prat."

"I thought you were supposed to be the suave and debonair Master Spy, not an arse!"

"I hurt too much to be suave, and I don't do debonair when I'm soaked through to the bone from the bloody rain. Besides, appearances can be deceiving. I thought you were a mouse, not a shrew."

She stamped her foot. "Just explain to me _why_!"

"Because!"

"Oh, you arse!" she snapped and elbowed him out of the way to continue down what looked like a sheep-track. Certainly it was no proper hiking trail. Snape ground his teeth together and followed.

"Let me have the canteen."

"No! You just had some before, and we don't know how far we need to walk."

"Granger-"

"What! What are you going to do? Toss me off a cliff? It's my canteen! Just like it's my cup, my plate and my spoon!" She shook the other sack she'd made out of more torn cloth from her dressing-gown. They'd pretty much shredded the thing, and Snape had used the bits left to make a message for anyone who found where they'd spent the night. This was the source of Hermione's irritation-especially since he hadn't bothered to explain himself. He'd hoped she'd be able to figure out his obscure message. How long she took was a sign of how successful he'd been: the fact that she still didn't have a clue an hour later had him a little worried.

"Are you really so pathetic that you'd claim pride of ownership for the things your captors provided you to eat off of? Don't be stupid."

"Oh! Just like I'm too stupid to figure out your message? Go bugger yourself, Snape!"

She turned and stormed off across the moor. "And if you're so brilliant where's this nearby farm you talked about?"

"We probably walked in the wrong direction-Merlin knows we've probably been walking in circles with this infernal mist-but there _was_ a working farm nearby."

"And how did you figure that?"

"Use your brain, Granger. That place hadn't been used in a hundred years. Where did all the hay bales come from? Obviously they'd been left behind after they'd been harvested, but they were only from two years ago at the most, judging from the decomposition of the plant matter."

She stopped and stared at him. "Oh. That makes sense. Explain what you're making then, and I'll let you have the canteen."

He narrowed his eyes at her, but then held up the long flat piece of metal she'd found on the floor of the barn. It was about an inch wide and a foot long, and he'd been mashing one end with a rock, so far managing only to make a gouge in the edge. "It's a tool that might come in handy. I don't honestly know if it will work."

She nodded and handed over the canteen. "And the message?" she asked hopefully.

In the spirit of newly-forged cooperation, he explained.

"Oh. I guess that might work. But only if Ron sees it. Harry won't get it anymore than I did."

"It was meant for Weasley."

"Oh."

"Let's slog through this stream for a bit. We're already soaked, and it will hide our trail."

"I'll follow you."

* * *

"Ron, you're a genius! Wake up! They found it!"

"They found Hermione?"

"No, but they found where they were keeping her. Come on!"

* * *

"And here, sir, you can see the result of several blasting hexes. What we've come up with is this: she was here and alive when Snape arrived. She was tied up with rope and had cut a few of them. Footsteps have been obliterated by the rain this morning, but forensic spells match Granger to here, here, and here. That means she was moving along the wall. She got free, but we don't know for how long. It looks like Snape was hurt. We turned up his signature along this entire trail of hay. We think he somehow fell out of the sky and crashed. We also found this." The Auror held up a sliver of black wood. "We picked it out of the skid. Looks like his wand shattered when he came down."

"That's the only bit you found?"

"Yes, sir."

Harry turned to Ron. "Someone cleaned this place up."

"They spent the night in the barn. It looks like only Snape and Granger left on foot. They took off west hours ago. My guess is just after dawn."

"It's three o'clock now. That's a good head start, depending on how badly injured Snape is."

"Sir! We found something else you should see!"

Harry, Ron and the three Aurors near him ran into the barn. It was also missing its roof, but one area was protected from the elements by the remnant of a loft. There on the ground was a message made of carefully placed strips of cloth.

"Glossop. W is N. Son of Sorrow. Nf6." Harry looked around him. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I think it means they're heading to a tavern in Glossop, sir. Don't the Muggles give their roads silly names like M1 and Nf6?"

"Right. Get everyone on brooms in the air headed for Glossop. Look for them on the moor! Now! _What_?" Harry turned to Ron, who had gripped his arm tight.

"Harry, does anyone here still have that map?"

"Right here." Harry snatched the map out of Mathersby's hand as the Auror was climbing on his broom. Ron took it and then walked away from the barn with Harry following him. He gave Harry a signal for silence and then opened the map. He traced his finger up and over several times, always with Glossop as the starting point. Then his eyebrows climbed up into his hairline.

"Harry, I think that message was for me. Son of sorrow is a translation from a Hebrew word."

"When did you learn Hebrew?"

"I didn't. It's also a chess term. It's a defensive move. A pretty aggressive response to a standard opening. In this case, I think it's also a warning."

"For who?"

"For me. For you, if I trusted you. I think Snape's trying to say he was expected. Harry, I think you have a mole. Don't tell anyone, but he's not going to Glossop."

"How do you figure that?"

"Easy. He told me. Glossop is the starting point and west is north. He told us that. Nf6 is the move the black knight makes in the Benoni Defense. Benoni is Hebrew for 'son of sorrow.'" Ron shifted the map sideways and ran his finger up three moves and over one.

"Manchester. That's where he and my mum grew up."

"Harry, the knight in the Benoni Defense usually gets sacrificed. Snape's expecting a trap. My guess is, he's hoping they'll be dumb enough to try spring it in Glossop."

"I just sent all my men to go flying after them. If one of them is in on it, I might just have killed them both!"

"Call them back. See if anyone doesn't obey the order."

Harry spun around and fired off his Patronus.

* * *

Hermione's feet hurt. She'd taken her fuzzy slippers off when they had entered yet another stream, and she's managed to abrade them on the rocks, which was actually preferable to squelching in the slime. Snape had just stomped along in his dragon-hide boots. He was surly and irritable and every bit of the nasty professor she remembered from Hogwarts. She tried to have sympathy-the man had basically pulped himself trying to save her-but he was such an unmitigated arse, it was hard. The biggest reason she had any patience for him left at all was the brief, sleepy memory of waking up from a nightmare last night and having him wrap around her like a shawl and mumble something soothing in his sleep. It had been heavenly. It was the most intimate and caring moment she'd shared with anyone in ages. She sighed deeply.

"What's the matter, Granger?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"That sigh. Are you going to make it any farther?"

"Well, not for much longer. The only reason my feet aren't screaming is because the water's so cold, they're almost numb. How's your head?"

"A dull misery. My back is more unhappy. I suspect I'm on the mend."

"We're spoiled with magic, you know. We're so used to being able to fix even our major injuries with a potion or wand, that if we're uncomfortable for more than twenty minutes, we think we're going to die."

"Speak for yourself. I'm quite familiar with prolonged bouts of pain."

"Oh. I forgot. My apologies. That was thoughtless of me." She grew quiet.

"No. You're right. For most people that would be the truth. Here, let's get out of this damned stream. I'm sure we've hidden our trail as well as can be expected. At least the sun's come out, and we can find west again." He scrambled up on the bank and turned to offer her his hand. She ignored it and pulled herself up with a grunt.

"Watch your back!" she scolded. He grimaced and nodded. After she got her slippers back on, she straightened up, unwrapped his cloak from where it had been rolled up and wrapped several times around her neck. Shaking it out, she covered herself with it. When she looked up again, Snape was staring at her and blushing. Furiously. Obviously, her nightgown had gone a little see-through from the water. He spun and stomped away. She opened the cloak and looked down at herself. Okay, a lot see-through. She flushed, but wasn't sure it was from embarrassment. She was suddenly curious to know his opinion on what he had seen. She shoved the frivolous thought away and scrambled after him.

After half an hour of silence, she finally spoke up about her fears.

"So, do you really think that the Death Eaters are back?"

"Did you really think those people were Death Eaters? I'm surprised at you."

"They weren't?"

"Hardly. They were too undisciplined and their masks were obviously fraudulent. They were more likely petty thugs hired by someone. I doubt seriously there are any true Death Eaters left. Just someone who wants us to believe-" Snape spun around and stared at Hermione in anger and surprise. "I think I know-" Then he looked beyond her, and his eyes widened and his face grew pale. He let out a blood-curdling scream and ran.

Hermione just stared for a minute, confused. Surely she hadn't just heard the Master Spy squeal like a girl. She turned around and looked behind her.

Oh.

Yes.

Yes, she had.

She gave the adder lazing on the rock ten feet away an appraising look and determined it was too sleepy to be bothered.

She picked up the bundle containing their evidence that Snape had flung to the ground in his escape and took off after him. She couldn't cover near as much ground in her fuzzy slippers as he could in his mad gallop, but with the hill sloping for a mile before her, she wasn't in danger of losing him as he tore across the moor with his hair flying out behind him and water spattering out of his boots. She figured she would just scurry along behind him. The adrenaline had to run out sooner or later. Surely pounding across the land in a full-on sprint like that couldn't be good for his back.

He had surprising stamina. He ran for a very long time. She supposed he had been under a great deal of stress and seeing something which was obviously a phobia had sent him 'round the twist. Eventually he came upon the only tree for acres and headed for it. She realized what he was doing and jogged along looking down at the ground until she was fairly sure he was done.

She took her time catching up to him once she saw him flop down to the ground and bury his head in his hands. When she reached him, she just dropped down on the ground next to him and pulled the canteen out of the bundles. She handed it over to him in silence and saw his face was tear-streaked. She lifted up a fold of his cloak and wiped his face. He flinched away.

"Don't!" he hissed.

"Don't sympathize? Don't commiserate? Don't act like I think it's perfectly rational for a man with your history to be mortally afraid of snakes?"

"Yes! No! Just-" He buried his face in his arms again. "Leave me to my shame."

"What shame?" she asked.

"Oh, sod off, Granger! Don't play me. I know as soon as I get you back to civilization, you're going to tell one and all that the great Master Spy is really a fucking coward!"

"I think you're over-reacting a bit, but that's understandable given the scare you just had."

"Fuck you!"

"Right. I can see I'm in a no-win situation here." She fell silent and offered him the canteen again. This time he took it. "Would it help if I offered you a fair exchange? A little quid pro quo? I can tell you something I find extremely humiliating, and then if I spill the beans, you can tattle on me."

He gave her a sour look. "Granger, I don't want-"

"I'm still a virgin."

His eyebrows shot up, and he blushed.

"I've only kissed a boy twice." She continued. "Two boys, once each. There. Tell anyone, and I'll kill you. His head reeled back, obviously affronted. "So there you have it. I'm one of the many, shriveled up virgins of Hogwarts. Me, Minerva, and Irma."

There was a moment of excruciating silence.

He cleared his throat. "Actually-"

She slapped a hand over his mouth. "Don't! Leave me my lies!"

He nodded under her hand.

"On the other hand," she said, "now I'm curious. Which one?" She removed her hand, but he didn't answer. He just looked at her with an odd expression on his face. "Oh, no. Neither?"

He shook his head.

"Oh my god! I'm the last virgin in the whole of Great Britain, aren't I?" she wailed. She shoved herself off the ground and took off.

She stomped due west. The sun had oozed out from below the clouds and was heading towards the horizon. Tears streaked down her face as she heard the sound of footsteps hurrying to catch up with her.

"I'm pretty sure Horace has never-" Hermione's wail stopped him from finishing his sentence. They walked along in silence after that.

* * *

"It's an hour until sundown. Do you think they made it off the moor yet?" It was a rhetorical question. Harry and Ron were sitting in a Muggle bar in Glossop. They were both dead on their feet and had resorted to potions to keep awake. Harry's brain felt like sludge. All of his Aurors had returned as soon as they got his message. He'd sent them all straight to Glossop, and they were stationed around the perimeter of the town looking for anything suspicious without looking suspicious.

"Maybe. In full health they would have made it easily. But we don't know how badly they're hurt. We know Snape is injured; we don't know that Hermione isn't."

"I know."

"Man, that must have been a hell of a fight," Ron said suddenly. Harry gave him a baleful eye. "Think of it though, Harry. Snape came at them from the air. I wish I could have seen it! That flying without a broom thing he and Volders could do! Do you think they were all in the air? The other Death Eaters too?"

"Nah, or there wouldn't have been so many blast marks on the ground. He tore the place up pretty bad. I think he was strafing them. That's what it looked like when I drew it out."

"Strafing?"

"It's a Muggle way of fighting. With Aeroplanes. Fighter pilots would come in from the sun so their targets couldn't see them and then lay down fire on the ground targets. Then they'd pull out and climb back into the air and circle around to come back in again." He pulled his paper out of his pocket and spread it out. "This is a diagram of the farm site. Here's the blast marks. You see the pattern now?"

"Yeah! Wicked!"

"I think Snape only got off one run before he was taken down, but he managed to free Hermione on his pass."

"The man's incredible. I wonder what they had that kept your gadgets from working."

Harry folded the paper and looked down at the table.

"He didn't bring them."

"Huh?"

"Higgins found them all on the counter in the bathroom. I think he didn't want to hurt my feelings."

"That doesn't make any sense. If he had better stuff, why did he nearly lose the fight? Why not bring her back right away? Why not-?" Ron looked at Harry as a dawning suspicion ruined his appetite. "Harry, what if he just forgot them?"

"Snape? Nah. He's just playing a deeper game than we understand. If he forgot them, that meant he went in with nothing but his cast iron nerve and his wand."

"Well, you saw what was left of his wand."

* * *

Snape and Hermione hid on their bellies and watched the old farmhouse from the hill above it. Unlike the other two farms they'd skirted already, this one didn't have any livestock. It didn't have much of anything. It looked mostly abandoned. But it did have curtains and a dried up old pot plant in the window. They'd been there for an hour already. Hermione had actually fallen asleep, but Snape elbowed her when she started to snore. As the last rays of the sun faded in the west, they stared even harder for what they were looking for. A light to go on. Or better yet, not.

As the dark settled over everything, the heat began to leech away. Hermione slid closer to Snape for warmth. Their clothes were still wet, and they must have looked like the living dead. Certainly the smell wafting off of Snape was enough to wake the dead-although it did have a certain masculine charm.

Hermione banged her head on the ground. Her brain was tired. Despite the plants that Snape had found on the moor for them to eat, she was half-starved, and they were out of drinking water. That must be the reason for her libido to have suddenly decided it had needs. All she could think about was the different ways Snape could meet those needs. She was pathetic.

She had thought about him constantly since their conversation at the awards banquet. But then again, who hadn't? She'd followed his press in the paper, worried, as she always did, if he was suffering from their coverage. She'd noticed when the tone of the articles went from fawning adoration to critical opinion and read the seemingly never ending interviews with various women who took great pains to describe his untouchable, tortured soul. She'd noticed when he'd disappeared from the public eye. She'd felt a pang of sadness for him.

And then he'd suddenly burst back into her life and rescued her. What girl wouldn't swoon just a little? Hermione had always prided herself on her maturity and restraint, but she'd found she wasn't immune to the hero worship that Harry had suffered from since that night, long ago, when they'd finally vanquished evil, and their lives had all changed for the worse.

The plain truth was that Snape didn't need to be a hero to catch Hermione's fancy. He just needed to notice her. And he had. He'd noticed her the night of the play. It had been years since anyone had looked her in the eye without her practically needing to do a fan dance in front of them first. Snape had seen her. Not only that, but he'd seen through her. He knew she was unhappy, and he'd done something about it. Hermione was deeply affected.

Even with the petty little comments that led to petty little arguments on and off for most of the day, she found him charming. It had been a long time since she'd indulged in a good snit with someone, and he had been more than willing. The two of them had worked through a lot of worry and anxiety by doggedly defending their belief that the other one was leading them in the wrong direction.

The combination of all the elements was turning her into a mess. He'd noticed her. He'd saved her. He'd seen her practically naked through her rain-soaked gown and blushed, but not before getting an eyeful. Add to that, he'd let her see him at his most vulnerable. Granted, that wasn't a conscious decision. Still, taken all together, it was clear that she was in serious trouble.

She found the man irresistible. Ugly nose and all.

Perhaps it was just a reaction to having told him her secret. Maybe he would take pity on her and give her a good, hard shag. '_Oh get a grip, woman. No one's been interested in you since Ron snogged you in the heat of battle,_' she told herself. Another voice responded, _'Yes, but no one else ever noticed you. He did.' 'True, and he'll do such a good job with a head injury and a crippled spine. You can break his kneecaps for foreplay.' _Again, she thunked her head on the ground.

"For gods' sake, stop doing that," he hissed directly into her ear, making her shiver from head to toe. "I think we've given them enough time to realize it's night. I'm going to go down there. You stay here." He flattened a hand against her head and pushed her face onto the ground. He then started to pull pins out of her hair.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed.

"How else am I going to pick a lock?"

She realized what he was talking about. "When did you learn to pick a lock? Why would you learn to pick a lock?"

"I told you I had hidden reserves. I've had more than one type of misspent youth, Granger. Now stay down, and don't come, even of you hear me shout. If I wanted to plan an ambush, this is just what it would look like. If anything happens to me, make your way to Manchester, and find Spinner's End. Use the broken bits of my wand to get through the wards, and stay there until Weasley finds you." He pulled away, but she reached out and grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Severus-oh, the hell with it." She pushed up on her elbows and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Be careful."

In the starlight, she could see his eyebrows trying to hide in his hairline. She couldn't believe her own audacity and fought the furious blush that made her feel like her cheeks were going to combust She watched as he slid backwards, giving her a long, confused look, and then made his way around the perimeter of the complex of rundown outbuildings. He ducked behind what looked like an old dairy, but she didn't see him come out on the other side. When he finally did, she realized he must have stopped to relieve himself. That sounded like a smart plan. She wished she'd done the same.

* * *

"You have everything?"

"Yeah. All kinds of potions, clothes, new wands, Hermione's old wand. Snape's bit of wand. I can't think of anything else. Oh! Food. I picked up a couple of extra meals at that pub and put them in stasis. Lav gave me a bunch of stuff as well. I figured they'd be starved."

"Brilliant. Send me a Patron-"

Ron stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I will, Harry. Remember, don't tell a living soul where I am. Better yet, don't tell any dead ones either. Lavender's going to cover for me and tell people I got sick from being out all night."

"Keep them safe, Ron. And don't tell me anything Snape doesn't want me to know. Tell him we have no leads on the leak."

"I'll take care of it. You just find the bastards, Harry."

* * *

Ron landed his broom in an old, broken down playground on the outskirts of town. According to his map, Spinner's End was just a few blocks away. It didn't take him long to find it, but he took his time circling the block looking for signs of magic. Only the wards on Snape's old house showed up under his careful spells. He walked up to the door and then touched the broken wand to it. It clicked open, and he hurried inside. He felt the wards reestablish themselves when he closed the door behind him. He left his broom and his parcels by the door and made a quick circuit of the house. When he had completed it he walked back into the sitting room.

"What a dump," he muttered as he cast a Cushioning Charm on the lumpy sofa and went to sleep.

* * *

**AN**: I do hope you liked it!


	7. Like a Version

**AN: **Thank you to **Hebe GB**, **Whitehound** and especially **Dressagegrrrl**, for cheerleading, Britpicking and overtime in The Department of Comma Corrections. She says I'm getting better, but we all know that is a shameless lie. PaddieW, finish your drink. _Now_.

* * *

"Granger!" Nothing. "Granger! Wake up!"

"Hrmph?"

"Wake up, woman. I can't carry you. My back won't do it."

"S'vrus?"

"Yes, it's me. Come on, little girl. There's a bed waiting for you, but you have to walk on your own."

Snape held his breath as she stretched and opened her eyes. He prayed to any god that might be listening that she'd been too asleep to hear what had fallen out of his mouth. He was tired. Why else would he be calling her names that might be considered endearments if you looked at them from a certain direction? He helped her up and got her moving in the right direction. She was practically sleepwalking.

The poor woman had been through hell. She'd been stolen from her rooms five days before. Held captive by people she'd thought were Death Eaters come back to terrorize the world once again. And then she'd been dragged cross-country in fuzzy slippers over rocky hills and wooded valleys, through three rain-swollen streams and across uncounted miles of moorland. She'd complained about any number of things in that time, but she'd never actually complained about the trek. No wonder she had passed out on the cold ground.

He got her into the house and headed to the most recent addition. It was the only part that had plumbing.

"Granger."

"Hmm?"

"I found some clothes you might fit. Do you want to take a bath before you sleep?"

"Oh, Merciful Mother, yes. Is there shampoo?"

"I guess so. There's soap."

She opened her eyes fully and looked at him frankly. Then her eyes slid up to his hair and back down. "Severus, do you use bar soap on your hair?"

"Just get in there and bathe, Granger. And try not to use all the cold water."

"Cold?"

"That's all there is."

"Oh, hell. Is there electricity?"

"Yes, but I would prefer not to use it; neighbors might spot something. From what I could figure out, this house is in probate, and all the neighbors are relatives. We have it to ourselves, but if we tip anyone off, we'll have a crowd."

"How long ago did the owner die?"

"Four months ago."

"Did they die in bed?"

"How the hell should I know, Granger? I just read the mail. Here." He picked up a wad of clothes and shoved them at her, pushing her into the bathroom.

Actually, he did know, but he would be taking that room. He'd also found the poor old woman's medications and several that said 'Take as needed for pain.' Now he was waiting for the medicine to kick in. He was in agony. The muscles in his back were screaming. His head was throbbing. His feet were sore and blistered from walking so far in wet boots. He was bruised from one end of his body to the other from his landing. He was a skinny man with a fat man's allotment of pain, as his father used to say.

He heard the bath run and slipped back outside to see if it could be heard from outside the house. And if he accidentally got a glimpse of anything through a window, that would be bonus too.

Snape skulked around outside and was reasonably sure one couldn't hear anything unless one was close to the bathroom window. Quite close. But the moon's reflection kept one from seeing in without being seen in return. More's the pity. He was infinitely curious to see what else Granger had been hiding under that enormous nightgown since he'd gotten a glimpse of her dark triangle of hair and dusky nipples through the fabric. She obviously wasn't wearing knickers. Even as uninterested as his body was from the pain, his brain had held on to that image like a dog with a bone.

And then…she'd told him her secret. A fact that both titillated and terrified. He _wanted_ her. With a sudden, stabbing clarity, he'd realized he wanted her. He was honest enough with himself to know that he wanted any woman, but there was something about her strength, harnessed firmly to her utter vulnerability, that intrigued him beyond his own understanding. It must be the head injury. How could he possibly want the Know-it-All?

He'd never been with a virgin before. He had only a vague idea what one was supposed to do differently. He knew you were supposed to go slow and easy and be gentle, but none of those things were in his repertoire. As much as he found the girl intriguing, he was sure he would make the experience a traumatic horror show that would put her off sex for life. After all, it had been a while since he'd rolled in the sack with anyone. Now was not the time to be gently breaking in virgins. Well, now wasn't the time to be doing anything in the condition he was in. Not unless she climbed on top and did all the work. That is, if she could get a rise out of him while he was in pain. He thought of her heavy- looking breasts pressed against the wet fabric and felt a stirring. He also felt when it shrugged and went back to sleep.

Surely, she must be done by now. Maybe she'd come out in just a towel. He scurried quickly back inside.

He walked past the open door to the bathroom and called softly, "Granger?"

"In here," she answered.

He found her in the old woman's room. He started to tell her she was in the wrong room, but his voice fluttered away with a nervous crackle, She was standing by the window, facing mostly away from him. She bent over slightly to comb out her tangle of curls in long strokes that reached her waist. She was wearing the loose- fitting dress he had grabbed for her out of the closet: the moonlight streaming in the window went right through it and outlined her perfect curves in silhouette. Severus felt his mouth go dry. Very dry. Like his tongue was too big and had absorbed all the moisture. He suddenly felt awkward and clumsy.

"Severus? Are you alright?" she asked, as she flipped her hair onto her back and set the comb down. She looked at him with concern as she came around the bed.

"Am gon' bath," he informed her and then wobbled away.

He was pretty sure the medicine had kicked in. He'd been scornful of the efficaciousness of Muggle medicines, remembering the hidious tabs of asprin his father used to force on him as a child, but it seems they'd made improvements since he was eleven. All his aches and pains were suddenly gone. They were not without side effects, however. Apparently, they took his coordination with them. He headed into the bathroom and ran the tub.

He'd just finished undressing when there was a knock on the door. He had enough time to grab a towel and hold it in place before the door opened and she stuck her head through. She stared at him and squeaked when she saw him. He watched her take what he'd come to term "a Gryffindor Breath" when he'd been a teacher, and then with the obligatory squaring of the shouders, she barged into the room.

With the lighter tile reflecting more of the moonlight he could see her even more clearly, and it occurred to him for the first time that she was actually beautiful. Especially with her hair playing around her face like that. Perhaps a compliment was in order. Something subtle that could either be abandoned later when his mind cleared, or perhaps built on further if there was cause.

"Yer beuful," he said. He parsed his own words and found them curiously lacking anything that smacked of subtlety.

"Why, thank you, Severus." She smiled at him in surprise, but then her face crinkled with concern. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yup."

She held up several medicine bottles. "Did you take any of these for your pain?"

He nodded emphatically and then got dizzy. He grabbed onto the sink with the hand holding the towel. He realized his mistake, and then stepped closer to the sink and used his other hand to lift a corner to try and hide himself. "Wazzere anything elth? I need a baf." His tongue seemed to have gotten even thicker. He turned to the mirror and stuck it out, but could see no physical difference.

She came into the room juggling all the bottles and staring at his freshly bleeding shoulder. The skin had stuck to his shirt when he'd pulled it off.

"Which one did you take? Can you show me?"

He narrowed his eyes to focus on them and pointed.

"Thisun, thisun, thisun, two of those, they'r small, an'…oh, there waz anuvver but I ate the last one. Waz pink."

"Holy shit!" She yelled, startling him by dropping all the medications into the sink.

She lunged at him.

"No! Yer a version, I cud hurtchu!" He was fairly confused when she grabbed him in a headlock. "Silly bint. Tha's not how s'done!" He was even more upset when she started to stick her fingers into his mouth. "Gah! Gaaaah!" He started to fight back, but she seemed to be a lot stronger than him. "GAAA_urck_!" He vomited all over both of them. "Whufuk!" She did it again. "Donwanna!" And again. She continued to make him vomit until he damned near soiled himself. He did pass wind, but he figured they were even on that score.

They had both slipped in the sick and landed hard on their knees. At that point, Granger had leaned over and vomited as well. She made it into the toilet.

Miss Priss.

He noticed that she wasn't trying to maul him anymore, and he risked a glance at her from behind his hair. She was poking her fingers through the sick and counting the bits of pills while gagging.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked in a small voice. He didn't want her to be mad.

"No, Severus. But you scared me very badly. You could have died."

"Noooo, they were jus' small little things." He waved a hand at the mess on the floor thinking to apologize but was distracted by the sparkly colors his arm left behind. "Ooo, very lovely." He swirled his arm around and made more colors. "Know what, Grange?

"Do tell."

"I think I'm high."

"I bet you are."

He looked over at her and smiled. "Yer very beuful when you have that," he waved a hand at her hair, "that stuff all over like that."

"What, vomit?"

"No, don' be silly. Hair. S'lovely."

"Thank you, Severus. Now, let's get cleaned up."

She helped him to stand and then helped him into the tub. The water was cool, but not freezing. She pulled the plug and bailed water over him as the tub drained out.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked solicitously.

"No. Why? Do you want to?" he responded lasciviously. He chuckled at her flustered reaction. "S'why _are _you a version, Grange?"

"Because no one noticed me, and I was too scared to make them."

"I noticed you."

"Yes, you did. You were the first one in these five years to do so. Not that I'm complaining, mind. I'm used to being alone now."

"But why?"

"I don't know. Why is anyone ever alone?"

He thought about that for a minute and got very sad. "I'm alone."

She smiled at him. "No you're not. I'm right here with you."

He smiled sadly. "When I put th' princess back in th' tower, I'll be alone again. In that fucking house. I shu' burn it. And Albus. Th' bastard."

"Burn Albus?"

"Especially Albus. 'E's evil. He knew my secret and used it to hurt me."

"The one I found out today?"

He nodded his head but she was shampooing it so it was a little difficult. The shampoo was heavily floral-scented. "Ugh, I'm going to smell like an arse."

"Only for a little while. Tell me, how did Albus hurt you because you thought you were a coward?"

He looked at her to answer, but saw she had sick in her hair, so he grabbed it and wet it and gathered some lather from his own head and started to rub it in. She froze.

"Come in here Grange, I wanna wash you, too." She backed away and stared at him. He thought she was about to leave. He counted to three in his head before he saw the Gryffindor Breath, and he smiled like a little kid as she peeled out of her disgusting dress and climbed in. "I knew you were beuful. I saw you through your clothes. Come here." He sat up and backed to the end of the tub, and she settled between his legs. He grabbed the flannel from the soap dish and wet it under the tap and started to clean the sick off her. "Lovely tits, Grange. I do like them just like that."

"Really?" she asked. Her voice was small. He looked at her eyes, worried about her tone.

"Of course. Ther pefec" He concentrated on moving his mouth. "Perfect." He smiled at her, happy he'd said it correctly. "Watch. Go like this." He thrust his own shoulders back. She did the same and his eyes bugged out. "Fuckin 'ell, Granger. Your tits are amazing. They'll make a lucky bloke very happy some day."

"Not you?"

"Well, they make me happy right now. But I'm a little under the weather, if you get my meaning." He looked down at his useless widge. "The old boy's not been heard from since yesterday afternoon. He's probably having a sulk. He's had a bit of time, lately." He looked back up at her and smiled sheepishly.

"If he was up for it, would you be my lucky bloke?" she asked shyly.

He looked at her and understood what she was asking, but couldn't seem to get his mind in the right place to answer the way she needed.

"You need a better bloke," he said, gently.

"I'm pretty sure you're the bloke I want."

"Ah, Grange. You're too good for me. I always go fer th' broken ones that I have a ghost of a chance with."

"If I promise you have a chance with me, will you? I don't want to be a 'version' anymore."

He swallowed around the lump in his sore throat.

"I promise," he said, solemnly. "Now, give me your brown. That stuff. Hair. Lemme wash yer hair."

He spent a happy twenty minutes as they lathered each other up, but nearly drowned when it came time to rinse his hair. He rinsed hers without a problem. He couldn't remember a time he was so happy to be naked with a woman and not have sex. She didn't seem to mind his cuts, scars and bruises. Or the faded mark on his arm. She didn't comment on how boney he was. She called him 'well built.' He caught her sneaking shy glances between his legs, but he didn't comment either. Virgins were always shy, weren't they? At least the cool water added a shrinkage factor. He didn't want to scare her off. He was pretty sure she was a precious commodity. She was the only person who knew his secret and didn't seem to care. Minerva had been that way once. Not that _they_ had ever been naked in a tub together. He gagged a little at the thought. However, even Minerva had broken down during the last battle and thrown it in his face, just like everyone. He assumed that someday Granger would as well.

Finally it was time to get out of the tub. He gallantly offered her his towel, but then saw it had been spattered in the struggle. He grabbed a fresh one from the linen cupboard and held it open.

"Mind where you step," he said and then yawned.

She placed a dainty foot on a clean patch of floor and followed it by another. Then she crossed over to him with mincing little steps that he found adorable. He wrapped her in the towel and then kissed her on her wet shoulder. She froze, and he looked at her to see if he'd done something wrong. The sight of her enormous, golden-brown eyes looking at him with such hope constricted his throat. He leaned in, stopped, and when she didn't back away, he leaned in some more until their lips met. He kissed her softly, and she made the sweetest little mewling noise he'd ever heard. He broke the kiss and looked into her amazing eyes again.

"Beautiful," he said with careful enunciation.

"So are you," she replied. "Very beautiful."

He felt himself blush and looked down at the floor.

"Well," he said. He enjoyed their moment, but was having too much trouble concentrating to drag it out any longer. "Why don't you go get some rest, and I'll clean this mess up," he said.

"I was going to go look for some kitchen paper," she said.

"Nonsense. My head doesn't hurt at the moment. And my speech is improvered. Getting better. I should be able to manage a little wandless-"

"Severus-!"

Too late. He had, indeed, managed wandless magic. He'd vanished the floor. They were now standing on bare earth.

"Right. Tha's done. I'm very sleepy now."

He turned and walked out of the room naked and dripping, stepping up into the hallway.

* * *

Snape woke up to a dreadful headache, memories of bizarre dreams, and an awful thirst. He couldn't remember how he'd managed to get to bed. He closed his eyes again and went over what he did remember. His eyes flew back open, and he sat up fast.

"Good morning." He turned his head too fast-the pain shooting up his back told him that was a bad idea-and saw Granger dressed and sitting in a chair next to the bed looking breathtakingly beautiful and...guilty. He frowned, feeling like a complete arse..

"Granger-"

"_Don't._ Last night was scary and thrilling and sweet and marvelous. Please don't ruin it for me by being a bastard about it this morning. Here, drink some water. You probably need it." She handed him a tall glass, and he drank his fill in the uncomfortable silence. "I also have more pain medication, but I will dispense it only in the proper dose and after you eat some of the canned soup I found in the cupboard. I'm sorry, it's cold. But if you trust my opinion, it will taste like heaven." She handed him a large mug and he took it without fuss.

"No more Muggle medicine," he said. "Can't trust the stuff." He sipped at the soup and found she was quite correct. It was the best meal he'd ever had. He gulped down the rest of it.

"Now comes the part where I confess I did something stupid," she said. He pulled the nearly empty mug away from his mouth and licked his lip. He saw her eyes track it and lifted his knees up under the blankets to hide his obviously back-to-normal reaction.

"What have you done?"

"I washed your clothes."

"You washed my clothes." She nodded, and no small amount on fear stole across her features. "My wool clothes." She nodded again. "In a Muggle appliance." More nodding, and this time a trace of tears. "Am I to assume I will be traveling the rest of the way across country in an elderly woman's dress?"

"Well, your shirt is close to fine. And your vest and pants as well. And I did find these dungarees in a drawer. I cut them about the knee because they were too short for you. They'll look like regular Muggle shorts. And I found you new socks."

He closed his eyes, but his mind filled with visions of breasts. He opened them again and stared at the wall trying to figure out how to navigate this situation.

"You did well, Miss Granger."

"No!" He looked over at her startled. "Don't 'Miss Granger' me! You don't get to almost kill yourself and then throw up all over me and then drag me into your bath and tell me I have nice tits and kiss me sweetly and then regret it all in the morning!" She stood up and faced him. Her hair was combed into a braid that hung over one shoulder and the morning sun glinted in her eyes. "I'm not completely stupid, Snape. I know you didn't mean any of it. I understand you were out of your skull. I won't hold you to any promises you made last night. I know full well you wouldn't have done anything in the cruel light of day. Just, please, don't make the day any crueler!" She threw a hand over her mouth and then ran out of the room. He stared at the place she had been for a few moments trying to figure out how he could ruin things that fast. It seemed to be a hidden talent.

"Excellent job, Snape. What do you do for an encore? Kick babies?" He dropped his head back onto his pillow and closed his eyes. Then he opened them and lifted the blankets up high enough to see his still-raging erection. "And you can sod off as well!"

* * *

Hermione was packing cans of soup into an old, cloth shopping bag she'd found. She had already packed the medicine and washed out and refilled the canteen. She was doing her level best to regain her poise after her outburst and had come around to Snape's way of thinking. Perhaps it would be better to just pretend nothing had happened. Of course, it would have been better if she'd agreed with that thinking before she'd made an arse of herself with her outburst. Perhaps if she simply ignored everything, vomit, nudity, kisses and emotional outbursts, he would catch on and graciously do the same.

She heard the sound of the toilet flush-quiet the balancing act without a floor under it- and then his heavy tread as he came down the hall. She looked up, ready with a cheerful smile to explain what preparations she'd already accomplished. Her words stuck in her throat when she saw him.

He was walking straight for her with his hair flying wild and his dreadfully wrinkled shirt unbuttoned and his vest clinging to his flat stomach. Both items used to be white but after she'd had her way with them they were a leperous, mottled grey. His belt rode low on his hips where it cinched the too large khaki trousers that were cropped short and folded up just below the knee. His legs were a mass of scrapes and bruises covered by silky black hairs. His boots were laced up tight and rang loudly off the wooden floor as he bore down on her. Purple and green bruises stained whatever patch of skin was visible. He looked like sex on a stick. She closed her mouth with a click and tried to look competent as she grabbed up a shopping bag. He reached out, took it out of her hand, and placed it back on the counter as he came to a stop nearly on top of her.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but he kissed her before she could. It was by far the most passionate kiss she had ever experienced.

Her kiss with Viktor had been sweet.

Her kiss with Ron had been life-affirming and joyous.

Last night's kiss with Severus had been downright adorable.

But this?

This kiss scrambled her brain. Lowered her intelligence. Her inner dialogue was reduced to single repeated words like: _yesyesyes_, and _mineminemine_ with the occasional _ohgodohgodohgod_. He swept his arms around her and pulled her in close as his tongue swept in and made her belly flip and her thighs turn to jelly. She heard herself make little tiny noises and tried to stop, hoping she wasn't embarrassing herself. He didn't really seem to mind. He just kissed her deeper. He backed her against the kitchen worktop and pressed himself into her, and she felt it. He was aroused. _Very_ aroused. She froze briefly, then smiled against his lips and started to push back against him. He tore his mouth away and looked down on her, panting.

"I keep my promises, Granger. I just don't always keep them well. Remember that." He backed away from her and her legs sagged before she managed to recover herself. "And the next time we do that, there will be toothpaste involved in the preamble. It's time to go. Do you have that strip of metal we saved from the barn?" She pointed at one of the bags she'd repacked. He dug through it and pulled out the long, flat, metal bar. He shouldered several of the bags and then gestured to the rest and said, "Come."

She followed him out of a side door into a garage. He slipped the flat bar against the window of the MGB Roadster that was parked there. Hermione started to say something, but Snape pulled up on his bar with a jerk and she heard a distinctive click. He wiggled the bar and pulled it out before opening the door and tossing his bags into the back. He dropped down onto the seat and wiggled his head under the steering wheel, as Hermione finally managed to get herself moving. She heard him curse several times, but then the engine roared to life. She stood on the other side, shaking, until his long arm opened her door, and she threw her bags into the back and scrambled in.

"Buckle up. We're going to move fast." He got out of the car and walked back to open the garage door. Then he came running back and jumped into the car, buckled in, and threw it in reverse. His face looked grim as he shot backwards out of the garage and spun in a circle as soon as he was clear. He shifted and shot off down the drive. Hermione looked wildly around the landscape, but without her glasses, she couldn't make anything out.

Snape drove like a demon.

He drove like the experienced car thief he obviously was.

Hermione stared at him in shock for fifteen straight minutes as he took off north, before circling back south, and finally west. Then she started to giggle. Then she started to laugh. Snape looked like he was worried about her sanity, but then he smiled as well.

"Is this one of your 'hidden reserves?'" she asked with merriment.

"Just one of many," he replied with a wicked smile that curled her belly. He cut the wheel and then turned onto a mainroad. She could make out buildings up ahead. "Welcome to Padfield, Professor," he said. "We're only half an hour from Manchester, but we'll need to make a few stops, so it will be a bit longer than that."

"Good. That leaves us time to talk about things."

"Such as?"

"Such as: why do you think you're a coward when you're obviously not?"

Snape looked at her, and his face reflected several things at once: discomfort, fear, anger, a bit of betrayal, and just the tiniest bit of hope, noticeable because it was so much brighter than its fellow feelings.

* * *

AN: Second fav chap. Yup.

Review! Review, I say!


	8. The Cowardly Lion

**AN:** Any mistakes you might find are mine. I noodled with it after I got it back from the cleaners. Thank you to all my reviewers, and to the team of fabu friends that kept this going!

**AN2:** I accidentally posted the wrong version of this chap. Early readers were treated to the unfinished and slightly goofy disco version. Fixed now.

* * *

Ron woke up miserable. His cushioning charm had worn off at some point in the night, and he groaned as he rolled back and forth trying to figure out the best way to get up. He finally rolled off onto the floor and pushed himself up.

He checked the wards he'd set; the ones Harry had taught him last night and saw that nothing had disturbed them. No one had tried to gain entry to the place or bothered the Floo in the cellar. Only one owl had arrived with the paper, but had given up and left again.

Having done his survey, he sent a Patronus to Harry with one word-'Nothing'-for a message, and then went off to find a shower.

He came stomping back into the sitting room a few minutes later with a towel wrapped around his hips. He dug through the parcel Lavender had sent, filled with the things she'd thought a woman who'd been kidnapped and then dragged across the moors might like. Snatching up the bottles of shampoo and conditioner, he stomped back up the stairs muttering, "Who uses bar soap on their hair?"

* * *

Hermione's adrenalin had run its course and she'd recovered somewhat from their mad dash away from the farm. Snape had assured her that no one had come after them, but it would be wise to switch cars soon. He kept his eyes on the road and a scowl on his face.

"At least answer me this: Do you believe you're a coward? Or is it just something you were told you were?"

"What kind of absurd question is that?" he snapped.

"Actually, I think it's probably an incredibly important one. There's a huge difference, you know." He rolled his eyes but didn't respond. "I'm sorry, I just don't get it. You saved my life all by yourself, how can you be a coward? You risked your life for me. In fact, had you not freed me as soon as you saw me, you probably wouldn't have been stuck down. A coward would have leaped into the sky and flown _away_, but you didn't. You were completely selfless! Even beaten to a pulp you struggled to get to your feet because your injuries weren't as important as my safety. You even soothed my nightmares in your sleep."

"I did?" He looked disconcerted.

"Yes, you did," she said with a blush. She lifted up a hand and started to tick off more points. "You got us out of there. You found edible plants for us. You left important clues for those you trusted." She dropped her hands. "You never wavered, Severus. You just kept going. That's not a coward to me. That's an effing hero if ever there was one." He opened his mouth to protest but she held up a hand. "The snake simply doesn't count."

"How do you figure that?" he said, his voice rising an octave.

"That's not a cowardly thing. It's perfectly rational from where I stand. A murdering sociopath tried to kill you by dropping an enormous, deadly snake on your head. Who the hell wouldn't be terrified of them after that? Sorry, but you'll have to do a lot worse than scream and run when you see the snake to make me buy the coward thing."

"But I have," he said quietly, as he pulled into a business park in Hadfield and parked the car. They grabbed their bags and left the Roadster in a parking space. Severus had her wait near a wall while he walked inside the building. When he came back out, he boldly walked over to a nondescript Ford Fiesta. Five minutes later they were back on the road.

"There, see?" She threw her hands into the air. "I just don't get it. You just stole a car in broad daylight! You went _into_ the building, for heaven's sake. You're bold as brass!"

"I needed to find the lav. I always have to go when I get nervous. Further proof," he said petulantly.

Hermione made a noise in her throat that sounded like a strangled screech.

"No, it's _not_! Who the hell gave you your definition of coward?" He pressed his lips together. "Snape, a coward wouldn't have come after me. A coward wouldn't have saved me. Sure, you might have thought about running away, you might have even considered hiding out until it was all over." He flashed her a look, and she saw she'd hit that target dead on. "But you didn't, you git. You could have walked away from me just now! You could have gone into that building and out on another side and left me sitting there with sacks of stolen soup and human body parts wrapped in bin bags." This time he gave her an affronted glare. "There! See? It didn't occur to you, did it?" She put her hand on his arm. "Severus, listen to me, being terrified is normal in a scary situation, especially after the kinds of things you've had to face. Being brave doesn't mean you're not scared witless-trust me; I've been there-bravery is when you do it anyway. You're allowed to want to hide. You're allowed to want to run away. But you don't. You never did. Not that anyone saw. Snape, based on what I've seen you _not_ run from, if there _was_ a situation that you ran from, you were probably smart to run. Having to run to the loo whenever you're frightened doesn't make you a coward. It probably means you have a weak bladder."

He stared at the road with a mixture of expressions twisting up his mottled face. His knuckles were tight on the wheel.

"Crucio," he choked out.

"What?"

"Crucio. When you get hit with a Crucio, your bladder lets go. After a few times, you try so hard to hold it and spare yourself one more indignity, but you can't. You only manage to damage the nerve. I started making sure I went before I had to go meet the Dark Lord. Then I just started making sure I went before I did anything frightening. Now I'm just afraid I can't hold it. That someone will jump up and say _'boo!' _and I'll piss myself."

"Oh, Severus." She placed a hand on his leg and felt the muscles jump. "I understand. When Bellatrix Lestrange tortured me at Malfoy manor, I pissed all over their rug. I was mortified. Despite everything else that was happening, I was deeply ashamed of myself for losing control when she Crucioed me."

Severus stomped on the brake, and they slewed to a stop at the side of the road.

"She tortured you?"

"Y-Yes. I thought you knew."

"How long? How long did she Crucio you?"

"It seemed like forever. Ten minutes?"

His face filled with horror, and he grabbed at her and pulled her close. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Hermione. I didn't know."

She burst into tears, overwhelmed by his story, her admission, his concern, and the fact that she couldn't remember ever hearing him say her name before. He clung to her, obviously deeply affected by her tale. "It's okay, Severus. It wasn't your fault. It was hers. She was mad. It was war."

"But it _was_ my fault! It's all my fault! I'm the one that told the Dark Lord the prophecy! I killed Lily! Everything that happened is because of me! The Dark Lord was going to kill me! He said I was useless, that I had no purpose in his organization. I'd failed at every task he set me. If I didn't bring him something useful, I'd be killed at the next meeting."

"So you gave him the prophecy when you heard it."

"I did," he said. He hung his head and sagged in her arms. "Dumbledore told me that a real man would have died before turning the prophecy over to the Dark Lord. He was right. Lily shouldn't have died. The Longbottoms shouldn't have been tortured into insanity. So many people… Who was I to decide I needed to live?"

"A very scared young man. It was an age full of scared young men walking the earth, Severus."

"And I was one of the lesser beasts. I got a lot of good people killed."

"And you paid for that, didn't you? You paid in blood and Crucios and spent the next seventeen years making amends." She held him tighter. "I have a hard time with the fact that Dumbledore let you believe the worst of yourself for so many years. I have a hard time reconciling it with the man I knew. But then again, I've been having a hard time with what I know about the way he used Harry. After what you've told me, I'm beginning to dislike that man."

Snape squeezed her tight. "You shouldn't. He was a devious old bastard, but he _was _trying to save our world from a monster. He used every means at his disposal. In the end, he did. Even if he wasn't around to see it."

"True. But I have a hard time with the cost. We lost so many good people. Look at my friends. Victory nearly ruined their lives. He left you to believe the worst of yourself." She pushed back and scrubbed at her face before looking him in the eyes. "You're not a coward, Severus. You're perfectly normal. You've just never had enough friends to see what normal is. If anyone's a coward, it's me."

* * *

After several failed attempts to try explain what she'd meant, she'd given up. He'd made it more than clear he thought she was being overly dramatic and had used that to disregard her entire argument. He hadn't acknowledged her since they'd pulled back onto the road. She tried again.

"Severus, if you'd just listen-" She finally got a response.

"Be quiet," he spat. "I cannot abide idiocy and you, Granger, are being an idiot."

She finally snapped. "Oh, I see! So what's good for the gander makes the goose an idiot? What the hell kind of logic is that?"

"It makes perfect sense when anyone can see that the gander's a coward and the goose is just being a dunderhead!"

"You're not a fucking coward!"

"_Neither are you!_"

"Hello? I wore a Notice-Me-Not charm for two years so I could hide from people who loved me!"

"I hid in that pile of shite for _three years_!" He'd pulled up in an alley and pointed at a cluster of old, ugly, brick terraced houses that they'd been circling for fifteen minutes.

"You had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder! I was just a chicken!"

"What in the bloody hell is Post Traumawhatsitorder? And you had a right to be a chicken! Look at what happened to you when I took off your sodding charm residue!" He slammed on the parking brake and cut off the engine by pulling the wires apart. He grabbed the bags out of the back seat and jumped out of the car, slamming the door of the battered Nissan Micra he'd boosted in Openshaw. He stomped off around the corner.

"Git," Hermione muttered after him as she gathered her things and scrambled out of the car. She caught up to him just as he was about to open the door. "Wait!" she hissed. "Shouldn't we see if someone is in there?"

"Someone is in there."

She felt her entire body grow cold. "Who?"

Severus threw open the door and gestured at the ginger-haired man standing with his mouth open and his wand pointed at them.

"Him."

He stomped past and snatched Weasley's wand, giving it an experimental flick that knocked several shelves out of the empty bookcase next to him.

"Ron!" She threw herself into his arms and he pulled her close with fierce hug.

"Are you alright?" he asked, brushing away a tear. "I've been bloody worried about you!"

"I'm fine," she said, sniffing up her own tears. "Severus, saved me. Did you get his message?"

"Yeah," he said turning towards Snape as he walked into the kitchen. "That was pretty clever."

Snape just turned and scowled at the two of them before disappearing around the doorway.

They followed him into the kitchen out of curiosity, and watched as he threw open the window, leaned out, and vanished the Micra out in the alley. He pulled his head back in and slammed the window. He turned and tossed Weasley his wand.

"What the hell are you two wearing?" asked Ron, after firing off his Patronus.

"Never mind that. Can Potter be trusted?"

"Yes, but we have no idea who the leak is, so he told me to keep him out of the loop until your say so. He just knows you're both alive and safe now. That's all he wants to know. Do you still have the Promissory Note?"

Snape nodded and then walked over and opened a cupboard in the kitchen. It was stocked with potions. He started to pull out several different kinds and placed them on the counter. He pulled out several more and started to drink them down. He turned to Hermione and pointed at the counter.

"Strengthening Solution, Invigorating Draught, Protein Replenisher, and a Vitamin Infusion. Drink them and I'll get you something to eat."

"I have some food," said Ron. He ran back into the sitting room, before returning with several parcels that he dropped onto the old, formica table and expanded. He pulled out several Styrofoam containers and placed them on the table. "There's stew and a couple of burgers from a pub. I also have some soup and a salad that Lavender packed. I brought your wand, Hermione, and a couple of extras I thought you could choose from, sir. Here are some clothes, Mi. Lavender thought you'd need to get cleaned up so she packed up some things for you here." He handed her the bundle, and she burst into tears. Both Snape and Ron looked horrified. Hermione walked over and just dropped her head against Ron's shoulder, and he pulled her into a hug. "It's okay. Everything's going to be fine now. You're safe. Snape brought you back safe, luv." He held her while she got herself together, and then she pulled away gently.

"Let's get you fixed up a bit first, she said to Snape.

She picked up her wand and waved it over him, pronouncing a diagnostic spell. Ron, blanched as the spell lit up the injured parts of Snape's body. Even knowing how badly he'd been hurt, Hermione was still stunned. How had he managed in such a state? Tears started to run down her face as she walked over and pushed him down into a chair. Starting with the smallest, the skin abrasions that covered over sixty percent of his body, she worked her way to the biggest-he had a small skull fracture, and four bulging disks and two torn muscles in his back. Along the way she healed his blistered feet, a broken pinky, removed a sliver of his wand from the palm of his hand, and reduced the swelling on his knee.

"That's the best I can do, Severus. You probably need a hospital."

"No. I've had worse. The potions will work in a couple of hours. Trust me."

She burst into tears again. "I do! I trust you with my life! You're so wonderful!" She threw herself at him, and he stiffened, before his arm closed around her and patted her awkwardly. She heard him clear his throat, and then Ron came and pulled her away.

"Easy, Mi. Go get yourself cleaned up, and you'll feel like your old self again."

"Thank you, Ron. Thank you both." She gave them a watery smile. "Where's the bath?"

"Top of the stairs, to the right." Ron and Snape both replied at the same time. Hermione gave a small laugh as Snape glared and Ron blushed.

"What? I needed a shower. I've been going non-stop since I found out she was missing. Oh, Mi! I left some shampoo and conditioner up there for you. You might want to use Lavender's body wash. That bar of soap makes your skin itch."

Snape harrumphed, and Hermione let out a laugh as she ascended the stairs behind the bookcase in the sitting room.

* * *

Hermione had filled Ron in while Snape was showering. Ron sat back and watched her spoon up the last of her bowl of stew and shook his head. It was quite a story, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to pull it off.

Snape came into the room holding some parchment and supplies and looking much more relaxed and at ease. Ron noticed his hair didn't look like it had been slicked down with lard and would bet his last Galleon the git had broken down and used the shampoo. He was back in his own clothes, but had omitted a couple of layers. He wore a white dress shirt under an open waistcoat, but not the heavy robes that added to the usual bat motif. The bruising visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves was already starting to fade and the lighter scrapes were healing as well. Ron's mind still reeled when he thought of what they had both been through in the past two days. Ron would have lain down and refused to go on with only a third of Snape's injuries. Snape stopped when he saw Hermione sitting on the settee in Lavender's denims and a long-sleeved top. Hermione was a bit curvier than Lavender, and even Ron had to admit she filled them out nicely. Snape seemed to have noticed as well. Interesting. He watched as Hermione budged up and made room for Snape next to her. Even more interesting.

"So what do we know?" asked Ron.

Snape handed Hermione the parchment and quills and pulled a small bottle of ink out of his pocket as well.

"Let's write it all down," he said. Hermione uncurled and settled on the floor, resting against Snape's knee, and spread the parchment out on the coffee table. Ron smirked at Snape, who just raised an eyebrow. "We know Hermione was taken from her room before she made it to bed. We're pretty sure she opened the door to whoever kidnapped her, but she doesn't remember anything about it. I suspect she was Obliviated. We know there were four men, and we know they were expecting me."

"One was named Jonesy, and don't forget the woman," Hermione added.

"What woman? There was no woman there when I arrived."

She frowned and thought about it. "No. I don't actually remember seeing a woman. They all wore Death Eater masks the whole time they had me, but I remember their body shapes and voices. They were all men. But I remember a woman for some reason."

"Write it down. There probably was one and your memory's been tampered with." Snape scrubbed at his eyes and rested his head on the back of the settee. "We know they weren't Death Eaters."

"We do?" Ron asked, surprised.

"We do. They were just unintelligent hooligans playing dress up."

"Who set off the Dark Mark?"

"I did. I assumed someone would see it and inform the Ministry. I had no idea we were so far away from anything."

"Why did you leave the tracer and all the rest behind?" Hermione turned and looked at him in confusion as Snape winced at Ron's question.

"I forgot them."

"You really forgot them?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Bloody hell, Snape. You really are the bravest man I know!"

"Or the most tragically absent-minded."

"Nah. How soon did you realize you didn't have them?"

"Within the first few moments, I assure you."

"See? That just proves my point. You went ahead and tried to save her nearly empty-handed. You're amazing!" Hermione smirked and elbowed Snape in the thigh. He just scowled at her. Ron knew he'd missed something there. "What else do we have?"

"Well," Hermione said, pulling the tip of the quill out of her mouth. "Twice Severus thought he'd put something together and both times was distracted." She turned to him. "Do you remember asking me to remember something you said because you felt it was important?" He shook his head, and she turned to Ron to explain. "He's had short-term memory issues with the skull fracture and concussion." She turned back to Snape. "We were talking about that one charm not being needed anymore and the fact that I had gotten used to being overlooked." Ron blanched at the banal way she stated what he only just realized now was a painful truth. "You said the people I worked with were programmed to not see me. Then you got a funny look on your face."

"Yes. Because the obvious question is who _did _notice you, Granger. Who at Hogwarts has been acting differently towards you?"

"What do you mean, 'at Hogwarts?'" asked Ron.

"I mean it was an inside job. We don't know if it was willingly or unwillingly, but whoever took Granger had free access to Hogwarts."

"Bloody hell." Ron sat back in the chair by the stove and went over the implications in his mind. Snape reached a hand out and ran a finger between Hermione's lip and the quill she was chewing on.

"Stop that. You don't know where that's been." His tone and his eyes didn't match. Hermione's eyes crinkled up as she dropped the quill to the table. Oh, heavens. They had it bad.

"What was the other thing, Mi? You said there were a couple of times he almost figured something out."

"The other time was when we were talking about the men who nabbed me." She turned to Snape. "You were saying something about how you doubted there were any true Death Eaters left. You said: 'Just someone that wants us to believe…,' and then we got distracted."

Snape nodded absent-mindedly and looked off into the distance. Ron and Hermione shared a look while he was distracted. Ron pointed at Snape discreetly and raised his eyebrows in question. Hermione blushed and smiled proudly, nodding her head just slightly. Ron gave her a big grin and nodded slowly in approval. It was time, and more than past time, that she found someone. As near as he could reckon, she hadn't dated anyone that she ever bothered mentioning. For all he knew, he might have been the last guy to have kissed her. He sat back and thought about that. He'd been pretty serious in his feelings for Hermione, but it seemed like in the days after the battle, she suddenly seemed to disappear from his thoughts. He'd drifted until he found Lavender again. But now it occurred to him that there was something peculiar in the way he'd suddenly stopped thinking about her. It wasn't until that play a few weeks ago until he'd even remembered that they'd been dancing around each other those last few months before the battle. It suddenly struck him as odd the way he never really seemed to think about her at all unless she showed up at the Burrow for Christmas. In fact, today was the first time he could say he was fully aware of Hermione being in the same room in years. He looked at her. Why had he just noticed how nicely she filled out her clothes? Why did he suddenly notice how pretty she was with her hair down? It wasn't like he was attracted to her all over again. He was much too contented with his family for that, but it was more than passing strange.

"Hermione, why do I suddenly see you?" he asked. "Where have you been these last five years?"

His question had an interesting effect. Hermione just bit her lip and looked at the table. Snape, however, snapped out of his reverie and bent forward, placing his elbows on his knees, effectively blocking Ron's view of Hermione. He gave him a black look that made Ron's hair stand up and spun him back into years' worth of horrible memories of Potions Class.

"Your question is irrelevant, Weasley. I think we'd be better served if you would stick to the matter at hand. Why Death Eaters? Why would someone pay a bunch of petty thieves to play dress up?"

"That's easy. To make people panic," Ron answered.

"Indeed. Why? What use is general panic? Where's the benefit?"

"To confuse the issue," said Hermione. "Sadly, perhaps it was nothing more than a simple case of kidnapping for ransom."

"I don't think so."

"Why not?" asked Ron.

"Because of the target. If I just wanted money, I would have picked someone from a wealthy family. Or stolen something priceless. Why pick a public figure that would mobilize the Ministry and upset the public?"

"Again, to scare people," said Ron.

"And again, we have to ask ourselves, who would benefit from a frightened population?"

Hermione and Ron exchanged bewildered glances before Snape answered his own question.

"Someone who wants power. Someone who had power once before and seeks to create instability so he can slip in and seize control. Potter said the ransom was paid for by the Ministry's budget."

"Nearly to the penny." Ron frowned and then remembered a bit of conversation. "Harry said Dumbledore thought it might be an attempt to bankrupt the Ministry."

"Did he? How interesting. I think we are on the right track."

"So we need to come up with a list of people that used to be in power, and who might benefit from the chaos created by having Death Eaters running around and the Ministry facing financial disaster," said Hermione. "People that might be a bit disgruntled by the way things have played out during the last five years."

"And someone who might feel that recent events created a favorable condition to make their move," added Snape, staring off into the distance again.

"I can think of two offhand," said Ron. "Malfoy and Umbridge."

Snape looked at him and just raised an eyebrow.

"Weasley, send a message to Potter. Tell him to come here, but to tell no one where he is going and especially tell no one where Hermione is." He stood up and started to head for the stairs. "The two of you stay here and when Potter shows up, explain everything to him."

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"To finish getting dressed. We need to switch the bait in a trap that's already been set, and I need to speak to the rat who is supposed to fall in it."

* * *

I hope you enjoyed! Reviews are love!


	9. Mastermind

**AN:** I'd like to take a moment to intruduce the band: **Hebe GB **on rhythm guitar, **Whitehound** on keyboards and **Dressagegrrl** on percussion. Special thanks to Whitehound for not already deleting her copies of the brit-pick edits when I accidentally deleted mine like a doof.

The name of this tune is: **Not Mine. No Money** Blues.

* * *

Snape paced the carpet in the drawing room and was heartily glad to see it was one he'd never seen before, although it was still overly ornate for his taste. Finally, the doors clicked open, and Lucius swept in, as carelessly elegant as ever. Narcissa appeared in the doorway, looking timidly at her husband for reassurance. Snape felt his heart grow heavy to see the changes in the woman. She was still beautiful, but without her cool haughtiness, the allure of Narcissa Malfoy was greatly diminished. Lucius grabbed his hand and shook it firmly.

"Snape, you're looking well. I'm very pleased you stopped by. Surprised, but very pleased nonetheless. May I offer you a drink?"

"I would like that very much Lucius. Narcissa, it is lovely to see you again. You're as beautiful as ever." She smiled, and at Lucius' encouraging gesture, she entered the room. Snape crossed over slowly and when she smiled again and offered her hand, he lifted it to his lips gently. It was cold. "It's good to see you, Cissy."

"It's so very good to see you Severus," she said nervously. "You've been missed. I really wanted to see you get your award. I just couldn't." Severus didn't react to the quaver in her voice. She looked like she didn't need one more reminded of what she no longer was.

Lucius brought him a brandy. "Why do I suspect this isn't a social call, Severus?"

"Because your instincts haven't failed you, and I suspect Cissy's haven't either. I need your help."

* * *

Hermione heard the wards chime, and when Ron jumped up with his wand in hand, she grabbed hers and partially slid under the coffee table.

"It's Harry, Mi. Easy there, luv."

She grimaced at her own fear and slithered back out. She stood up as Ron opened the front door.

Harry burst in and slammed it behind him. When the wards hummed again, he turned around and saw her.

"Hermione!" He flew over and pulled her into a hug that lifted her off of her feet. "Thank God you're alright! I don't know what I would have done if I lost you."

"It's okay, Harry. I'm okay." They both started to cry and just clung to each other and babbled.

"Was it terrible?"

"Yes."

"Did they hurt you?"

"No."

"Did Snape get hurt?"

"He was pretty badly beaten up-far more than he admitted-but he's on the mend."

"Where is he?" Harry turned and looked at Ron.

"He said something about baiting a trap. I think he knows what's going on, but he seems to be playing it to close to the vest. He told us to fill you in on everything we know until he got here."

"Good. Let's do that then. Oh! Hermione's been taking notes! This is starting to feel a bit familiar, isn't it?"

"Yeah, mate. But I suspect we're not the Golden Trio anymore. Hermione's gone and brought in a ringer."

"Who?"

"Her new boyfriend. Snape."

"_Ron!_"

* * *

Harry was eating half of one of the burgers Ron had picked up from the Muggle Pub last night. Ron was eating the other half.

"I also need to send someone to St. Mungo's to check the logs reporting Apparition Accidents and also eye damage."

"Righ'. I bet they were dumb enough to ufe their own namf."

"Close your mouth and chew, Ron. You'll wish you'd eaten what's falling out when you're hungry later."

Ron swallowed. "I have a wife, thanks."

Harry just smiled as the two of them started bickering. He hadn't felt this happy in a long time. He wished Ginny was here to share the moment. Despite the terrible circumstances that brought them all together, Harry now understood what he'd been missing that had almost pulled him and Ginny apart. His family. Not his wife and kids, but his brother and sister. His anchors. He finished his half of the burger and sat back and smiled some more.

A ping in the wards had them all jumping up, wands in hand. Harry didn't miss the way Hermione slid behind Ron, nor the way Ron seemed to puff up to hide her better. Hermione seemed to be a lot more timid after her adventure, and Ron seemed to have noticed already.

Ron cast a spell and then gave Harry a hand signal. Someone had come in through the Floo in the cellar. Ron raised his hand again. Four people.

They turned and faced the kitchen and heard the cellar door squeak open.

"Stand down. It's me." Snape's voice preceded him into view. He looked at the two of them with their wands still raised, and then twisted to see Hermione hiding behind Ron. A fleeting moment of concern passed across his face. Harry got the impression he wanted to go over and check on her. So. Ron hadn't just been taking the piss. Snape turned back toward the kitchen and called out. "It's alright, you can come in now."

Harry was surprised to see all three of the Malfoys enter into Snape's kitchen. Lucius kept his arm around his wife, but nodded his greeting. Narcissa Malfoy seemed on the verge of fainting, and Draco smiled and waved.

"Hello, Draco. How's your new little girl?"

Draco puffed up and smiled proudly. "She's perfect. Flawless in every way."

"What's her name?" asked Hermione. "I hadn't heard her name before all this mess. Is Luna alright?"

Draco pulled out a picture and handed it around. Harry smiled at the blonde toddler drooling on his tiny sister while both were perched on Luna's lap.

"Her name is Selene. Luna is doing splendidly, thanks. Everything is marvelous. Xeno seems to think his sister is a doll and keeps wanting to sleep with her."

While they had been talking, Snape was arranging seating while Lucius guided his wife to the settee. Harry watched Snape grab more chairs from the kitchen as Hermione's eyes tracked all his movements.

When Snape called his house-elf and started to order food and drink, Hermione's eyes practically bulged. She excused herself and stormed into the kitchen, interrupting him. Harry slid around the group so he could hear what she said.

"You have a house-elf?"

"I have three of the pests. They were a gift from Hogwarts. Winky, bring us tea and a light dinner, would you? And perhaps a bottle of wine from the cellar."

"Yes, master."

"House-elves. Three of them."

"Granger, is this about that spew rubbish?"

"No." Her voice had dropped to that dangerously low tone that made Harry's spine turn to water even years later. "It is not about that S.P.E.W. rubbish. It's about tramping around in nature. It's about sleeping in the mud. It's about the fact that you could have called your bleeding house-elf to come and get us!"

At that point, even Ron and Draco gave up pretending they weren't listening in, and all three of them turned to face the kitchen doorway. Hermione was standing with her hands on her hips facing Snape. He'd gone rather pale.

"It never occurred to me."

"Never occurred to you? When you were killing yourself trying to get us off the moor, your mind never once skipped to the fact that you had access to a way home?"

"Granger, with the exception of the late, lamented Dobby, house-elves were never considered a means of transportation. My apologies. It didn't occur to me."

She didn't relent. "Well, it would have occurred to me if you had bothered to share a few tidbits from your recent biography."

Snape lost patience. His face took on his old scowl, and he stepped forward and loomed over her. She didn't flinch.

"I'm so sorry. I've been remiss. I should have immediately started chattering on about all sorts of details. Let me rectify that immediately. I have three house-elves. I have a large, and rather well-appointed house that I don't have access to right now. I also have a large collection of thick, wool socks. I am the proud owner of a lovely, abstract, stone sculpture that I've completely forgotten the name of. I have developed a fondness for gruyere cheese as I approach middle-age, and I still dislike pushy know-it-alls." He stuck out his hand. "Perhaps I should properly introduce myself. I'm Severus Snape and this," he tapped his head, "is my head injury. It's a pleasure to meet you. I think. I can't really be sure because I've been having trouble with my memory since I fell out of the sky and cracked my skull trying to save your ungrateful hide!"

Food popped onto the kitchen table, and Snape whirled around and lifted it all into the air with a spell. He turned to the doorway and Harry, Ron and Draco all spun and slammed into each other in their scramble to get out of his line of sight.

Harry snatched Hermione's notes off the table and set them on a chair as Snape set the trays of tea things and food down.

Hermione came out of the kitchen looking pale. Her lip was squashed between her teeth. Narcissa lifted a hand to her and beckoned her over, settling the younger woman on the couch next to her. She gave her an understanding pat on the knee. Hermione smiled wanly at her, and Harry was surprised to see the impish wink she got from both Lucius and Narcissa. Narcissa leaned over and whispered something, and Hermione's head came up and she blurted, "Do you really think so?"

"Undoubtedly. Old friends can see these things more clearly."

Harry shook his head and turned towards Snape who had picked up Hermione's notes and started to read them. His host skills seemed to be limited to pointing to the table and saying, "Tea."

Narcissa seemed to find strength from the rituals of pouring the tea, loading plates and handing them around. Hermione followed suit and passed out napkins. Lucius pulled his chair closer to his wife, and his icey eyes seemed to gaze proudly at her.

Snape cleared his throat, and everyone settled.

"The Malfoys are here so we can all be on the same page. I think a quick review of the facts is in order." He then proceeded to do just that. Harry watched as Draco and his parents digested everything that had gone on, and Narcissa started to fuss over Hermione like she was a fragile doll. Harry snorted at first, but then became aware that after her ordeal, she actually seemed a bit like a fragile doll. How odd.

"It was Weasley who put the final piece into place this morning when he said the obvious choices were either you or Dolores Umbridge. That's when I realized what we were dealing with, and that you were being set up, Lucius." Ron blanched and looked at Draco.

"I didn't mean that I thought that. Just that your father fitted the description on the surface."

"No need to apologize, Mr. Weasley," Lucius put in. "We are well aware of how we are perceived in society." He turned to Snape. "Why were you so easily convinced it wasn't me?"

"From our conversation at the awards banquet. You seemed subdued but contented with your new life. It was a striking difference. I've rarely seen you subdued, and I've never seen you content. But I have seen you lie often enough to know when I'm looking at the truth." Lucius nodded and dropped his gaze. "You said Cissy was fearful of leaving the house for the last year." He turned to Lucius's wife. "Do you think you could explain? I think it might be important."

Narcissa blushed and her cup rattled as she set it down on the table. She reached for her husband's hand.

"I…really haven't been myself since even before the final battle." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Everything frightens me now. A house-elf popping into the room could send me diving to the floor. A bad storm could send me into a blind panic. I've hexed Lucius several times just for walking up behind me too softly." She teared up and pressed her face to her husband's wrist.

"I understand," Hermione said while rubbing the woman's back.

"I think we all do," Ron added.

Draco nodded quietly, deeply affected by his mother's pain.

"What my wife won't say is that when she first noticed something was wrong, I didn't believe her. In my defense, it has been a strain trying to make her feel safe from something I couldn't see or curse. When she first started to tell me things were disappearing, I'm afraid I thought she was sliding into paranoia."

"When did you start to believe her?" Harry asked.

"Honestly? This afternoon. When Severus showed up and took her seriously." Harry looked at Snape, but he just nodded to Narcissa to continue.

"I first noticed things were starting to disappear around a year ago."

"What kinds of things?"

"The first thing to disappear was an antique knife. It bears the Malfoy crest and was displayed in the library. It's imbued with a curse and very dangerous. Then I started to notice more things missing. One of my sprites, a pair of Lucius's shoes-"

"Hang on, what do you mean a sprite?" Harry asked. Snape had a fierce expression on his face, and Ron and Hermione were staring at each other.

"I have a collection of little figurines. They're sprites. When you whisper a spell, they all start to dance. I've had them since I was a girl. One went missing."

Hermione got up and walked over to the bags of evidence on the floor by the wall and started rummaging. She pulled her hand out and walked over to Mrs. Malfoy and opened it.

"That's it! That's my sprite! Oh, Lucius! They were in my home! I told you! I told you!"

"Easy, Cissy. You were right all along. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

"No, it's my fault. I'm the one that made it difficult to believe. If I hadn't been so weak after the battle you would have seen this was different." She dabbed at her eyes with her husband's handkerchief. "When I noticed things being taken, I realized there was a plot. I just had no idea what it was. I became almost crippled by my fears. I couldn't leave the house. I practically smothered my daughter-in-law with over-protectiveness. I know I drove my husband and son to distraction. It was easy to think I was just getting more irrational. Madness does run in the family."

"We all got irrational after the final battle, Mrs. Malfoy. I started to cast Notice-Me-Not charms on myself to avoid scrutiny. I did so for years," Hermione admitted, stunning both Harry and Ron.

"Did it work?" she asked.

"Too well. They stuck."

"I pulled away from my friends," said Ron. "I just couldn't deal with it all."

"I pulled away from my wife. I obsessively made everyone else on the planet more important than her," said Harry.

"I started obsessively checking my wards," Draco said. "Every night before I go to sleep I walk the house three times exactly and make sure the wards are functioning correctly."

Harry looked at Snape, but the man just stared at the floor, lost in thought. Lucius also stared into an unseen memory, but kept it to himself.

"So now we have a better understanding of how badly the war damaged us all," said Snape. "But the peace has brought good things, and they're worth protecting. We must find a way to deal with this threat decisively. There can be no rogue elements left to take root again once we act. Obviously, our mastermind has planned for the Malfoys to take the fall. The items taken were most likely to be used as damning evidence. "What we need is to find the patterns we don't see. When were the objects taken? Who had access to the house? In what other ways were the Malfoys being set up?"

"Xeno's name day party," Draco blurted. Everyone looked at him. "It's the only thing that makes sense. We held it at the manor just over a year ago, and if these fellows aren't real Death Eaters, and they're as incompetent as you say, then they wouldn't have been able to break in past father's wards. They had to be have been invited."

"It was a big party," Harry remembered. "Anyone could have slipped away to roam the house. They could have switched the items with simulacra that wore off at different times, hiding the fact that they were all actually taken at once.

Hermione reached over and took the parchment from Snape. "Can you remember who was there?" Draco looked pained, and Lucius muttered something about there being a list somewhere.

"Of course," Narcissa said. Hermione and Narcissa put their heads together and started to come up with names.

"Have you been receiving more invitations in the last year than usual, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Sadly, I thought our fortunes had changed."

"They have. Once word gets out that you were framed, public sentiment might just swing your way."

Lucius made a moue of distaste. "Oh, what luck. Pity. Just what we always wanted."

"It's a start," Harry said. He turned to Snape. "Have you a spare quill? We'll need a list of persons showing interest in the Malfoys over the last eighteen months, just to be on the safe side. And we'll need to know who was at all the affairs you went to, as well."

"That's easy. Snape's award banquet was the only function I've attended in two years. As I said, I was invited to others, but it would have be unseemly to go without my wife."

"Draco?"

"I didn't even go see my godfather get his award. I've been a little obsessed with my family for the last two years," Draco muttered. He shot an apologetic glance at Snape who just frowned at him with his classic: 'don't be a dunderhead' expression. "But Luna and I have been getting more invitations as well."

Everyone split into pairs with Snape and Lucius working to put together a list, Ron working with Draco, and the women making short work of a two hundred person guest list.

Harry made his excuses and headed back to the Ministry to quietly get a team checking out St. Mungo's. He was back within the hour. He'd also managed to grab a list of guests who attended the awards banquet.

"We found Jonesy. You get points, Ron. They _were_ stupid enough to use their own names. In fact, they were stupid enough to arrive together so finding their trail was almost embarrassingly easy. What do you think about joining me on a stake out?"

"I dunno if we both fit under your cloak anymore."

"How sure are you that no one put together your inquiries into these injuries and Hermione's disappearance?" Snape demanded.

"Absolutely sure. I have other investigations running. I buried the paperwork in a file on a stolen case of Pigmy Puffs."

"Hey! George and I want those pigmy puffs found!" Ron protested.

"And they will be. Hopefully. It's just not a priority right now. We need to find who's behind Hermione's kidnapping first."

"I suspect our brilliant Master Spy already knows who's behind it," drawled Lucius.

Harry whipped around and stared at Snape. "Do you?"

"It's not that simple. The 'who' is easy. I even know the 'why.' The problem is I have no clue about the 'who else,' and that's the part that worries me. At least one of the accomplices is not a petty thug and is in it for the money, if not the power. We need to draw them out into the open or catch one of the thugs and hex them until they cough up a name. Our evil mastermind is not really a danger and is easily contained."

"Why do you say that?" asked Harry.

Snape turned to him, and Harry felt his anger and shivered, even knowing it wasn't aimed at him.

"Because he's a fucking painting."

* * *

Dun, dun, duuuunnnn!

I slay me.

You know what I want...


	10. Chest Pains

**AN:** Thank you to all my betas and to my wonderful reviewers. I can't express how much fun you make this little hobby of mine!

* * *

Chaos erupted in the room. Snape watched them as his words sunk in and comprehension tripped and stumbled along behind. Only Harry and Hermione seemed to see the direction in which he was heading.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Severus. Are you saying my family has been threatened by a portrait?" Lucius asked.

"Yes. As well as someone else who's been seduced by the words of a portrait."

Harry snatched his glasses off and wiped them on the hem of his robes. "You're going to have to give me more to go on than your word, Snape. You're asking me to believe something I really don't want to contemplate."

"I will give you your proof. Soon."

"Proof of what?" cried Ron. "Who are we talking about?"

"Dumbledore," Hermione answered quietly.

Snape nodded and turned to Weasley. "When we were talking about someone who was unhappy with the way things have been the last five years, someone who used to be in power, and who would benefit if the Ministry were thrown into chaos, you were thinking of people. I wasn't. I might not have thought of him had he not been so clumsy when he tried to coerce me into taking the seat Kingsley offered me on the Wizengamot. He wanted me to be his puppet. I'll bet good money Kingsley got the idea from the portrait."

"Oh, gods." Harry sat down heavily. "It _was_ his idea for me to give you a portrait of him. I thought it would be something you would really like. It was also his idea to have all those protective charms layered onto the canvas! He said it would be prudent, since you might place him in your lab! He _knew_ there was a chance you would try to destroy him!"

"I assure you, he would had been dust already, but I didn't want to insult you by destroying your gift," Snape said.

"Why would Albus do this? We already consult with him. He's already an important advisor to the Wizengamot, the Minister, and me. He exercises influence over the entire Ministry and Hogwarts. What more could he want?"

"Not Hogwarts," said Hermione.

"What do you mean?" asked Snape.

"Minerva moved him out of her office. She was tired of his constantly criticizing the way she ran the school."

Snape felt the little hairs on his neck stand up.

"When? When did she move him out of the Headmaster's office?"

"Almost two years ago."

"So." Snape got up and paced in a tight circle. "Where did she move him to?"

"The Library. He still appears in her office from time to time, but he knows he's lost her ear. She told me that even at first when he would force one of the other Head's out of their portrait and spend hours there looming over her, she felt she had the wherewithal to ignore his advice because she'd already taken him down a peg."

"We need to speak with her. We need to find out if she knows who might have been susceptible to his advice. Your kidnapping was an inside job, Granger. We need to figure out who has been spending time with that portrait and then watching you enough to learn your habits. The answer is probably on these other lists." He pointed to the table with the accumulated guest lists.

Harry groaned and tugged violently at his hair. "Why? Why would he do this?" he repeated.

Snape answered in his best, matter-of-fact voice. People tended to hear unpleasant facts better without varnish. "Albus is dead, Harry. I killed him. Portraits are just remnants. Echoes that have a certain amount of sentience. In life, Albus had a drive for power that brought him tragedy, and he changed his ways. He could be coldly manipulative, but he always worked for the greater good. His portrait seems to have lost a lesson he'd learned in life and its flaws have become more pronounced over time. It's intelligent. It's conniving. It has little conscience. And it is _not_ Albus. The plain truth is, Albus Dumbledore wouldn't have been caught so easily had he wanted to take over the Ministry."

"What should we do? I'm lost here." Harry looked around, and Ron went over to put his hand on his shoulder. Hermione got up and hugged him as well. Snape tried not to react. He hadn't begun to get a handle on his feelings for the young woman yet, and now wasn't the time to find out they roamed around in the area marked: territorial.

"Go find me a thug missing three fingers."

"I'll go over these guest lists with Luna. Maybe she'll see something we missed," said Draco.

"I'll take my wife home first," said Lucius, "but then I can join you on your stakeout, Mr. Potter."

"No," said Snape. "Let's not risk you being seen with Harry yet. There will be plenty of time for you to use your anger after I set the trap."

"When will you do that?" asked Potter

"We need enough people in place before I set the bait. We'll need to have a better idea of how many we're up against so we'll know how many we'll need."

"Well, then. Let me go get you a two-fingered thug. C'mon, Ron. Let's go back to the Ministry and pretend we're frustrated with the rescue while we get some gear."

"What about Snape and Hermione?" Ron asked turning towards them. "Where will you stay? Do you want to stay with Lavender and the kids?"

Snape almost gagged at the thought. "We have somewhere safe to stay already. We'll be fine. We'll meet back here in the morning at eight."

Snape escorted everyone to his Floo in the cellar. As each person said their goodbyes and left, Snape's blood ran a little thinner, and his bladder started to act up. Eventually the last of them were gone, and he'd broken out into a cold sweat. He considered jumping through the Floo after them. He sighed and walked up the stairs as if going to his execution.

Hermione was tidying up when he came back into the room.

"We shouldn't stay much longer. They'll come here eventually when we don't turn up anywhere else."

"Where are we going?"

"I think we should find a Muggle hotel in the city. Wizards are always blinded by their own prejudices. It won't occur to them we would hide in the Muggle world right next door. They'd expect us to run somewhere more remote."

"What should I pack?"

His gut clenched at her innocuous question and he sighed as he replied, "Toothpaste."

* * *

It was about eight in the evening, still early enough for the last of the daylight outside to light up the strange patterns on the textured ceiling of the hotel room. Hermione lay on the firm mattress and reflected on the bizarre and hectic day that had started with grand theft auto and hit its crescendo with the realization that her life had been thrown into danger and chaos by a bored portrait that just wanted to be more important. In between these two points, she'd watched her two best friends knit themselves back together, witnessed a strained marriage slide back onto firmer footing, and argued the meaning of cowardice to a standstill with a man she was beginning to think was hopelessly irrational in some areas. The day had been filled with too many thoughts for her mind to get a handle on. There was just too much input for her to figure out where best to spend her energy thinking.

She sighed and was distracted by her sock flopping around. It hadn't made it all the way off her foot.

She couldn't help but feel a little let down. It was perfectly normal, she knew. She'd spent days terrified, followed by a grueling ramble through the country. Everything since had been a pattern of fear followed by insecurity. It only made sense that once she was lying still, she would start to feel a bit despondent. It was also patently clear that they had rushed things. But even still, she really would have thought things would have been, well, less boring.

She looked away from her sock and darted a look at Snape's face. He looked like he was in pain. He'd sworn he was fine and had even seemed to get snippy with her for implying he needed a good night's sleep. The expression on his face seemed to tell another tale. He definitely seemed in pain - when he wasn't looking confused. He certainly didn't seem to be enjoying himself at all. He was staring at a fixed point above her head as if it offended him and scowling fiercely with his jaw clenched tight.

She probably wore the same expression. Not that she was in pain - the books seemed to have gotten that wrong as well. She was just…sort of uncomfortable, with strange moments of near-pleasure. She really thought sex would be more enjoyable and she _really _didn't think it would take so long. Admittedly, her knowledge came from dormitory bragging and her secret stash of romance novels, so she knew there'd been room for error, but she thought the man usually had trouble containing himself because his pleasure was so great. Snape didn't look like he was experiencing much pleasure. In fact, he looked like he was having an aneurism as he worked his way out and back in again slowly. Too slowly. If he went any slower, she was pretty sure she would give in to her desires and fall asleep. She really wished she'd had enough time to take that bloody sock off.

Snape darted a glance down between their legs again and then got that same, confused look on his face.

"Is something wrong?" she finally asked.

He froze. "What?"

"Is something wrong? You keep looking down as if you forgot something."

Personally, she thought he'd forgotten a lot of things, like a kiss to start. It had all been very matter-of-fact and business-like, and she was doing her damnedest not to be horribly insulted. He'd basically climbed into bed as if going to his doom and been annoyed when she told him they were both too tired. He'd made a somber ceremony of casting the Contraceptive Charm. She'd suspected him of being noble. The thought was kind of sweet.

"So what's wrong? Am I missing any parts?" Not that he could see them all. He hadn't let her take her shirt off and hadn't seemed interested in even a cursory view of what he had been so enamored of last night. He hadn't bothered to take all his clothes off either. He was still wearing his undergarments, but his boxers had migrated down to meet his socks. Not the romantic figure she'd imagined. He'd been a lot more attractive when he'd been scraped raw and bruised while completely naked in the tub.

"No, you're fine. I just - you're fine." He looked at her and seemed to finally realize she wasn't particularly enjoying herself. "Am I hurting you? I think I can go slower…"

"No! I'm fine, really, although I am starting to chafe a bit."

He sighed in frustration and looked back down to wear they were joined. "Are you sure you're a virgin, Granger?" he asked.

"I think I'd know if I ever had a man in my bed. It's not the sort of thing you don't notice," she answered with asperity.

"I thought there was a barrier to break through. If there was, I didn't notice. And virgins are supposed to bleed a lot. And there's supposed to be pain."

"Well, I'm sure that's the way it is when we're younger, but I'm nearly twenty-four. I suspect my hymen died of old age. Or I might have lost it horseback riding, maybe even broom riding, not that I do that much. Or perhaps I could have even done it in when I diddled myself one night and didn't notice." Hermione stopped talking when she felt him move inside of her, even though his body was still.

"You diddle?" he asked in a parched voice.

"Of course, doesn't everyone?"

His face took on an amazed expression and he dropped down onto his elbows. "Well, I wank more than diddle. How often do you…_diddle_?"

Hermione realized the question wasn't mere curiosity. The topic seemed to have elicited a response from his member. He'd grown a lot harder. A lot. It felt rather nice. She smiled.

"Well, I don't know what's average, so I don't know I should answer. I won't know if I'm making myself look bad or not."

"I won't tell a _soul_," he said. The way he said it made her belly flip, and his mouth dropped open slightly in response. Now this was more like it.

"Nightly," she whispered. His eyes closed slightly, and he licked his lips. "And I have toys." He made a strangled sound and ground against her. That felt lovely. "Several toys. Sometimes I use more than one at a time."

"Ohhhh," He started to thrust again, this time with more vigor. His long fingers started to pull on the fabric of her shirt. "Tell me more, Granger. Tell me everything."

She bent forward a bit and pulled the shirt off over her head. His eyes widened, and he groaned. "Can I play with your tits?"

"Please! Do _something_!" He attacked them in the most delightful way.

"You stopped talking," he said between licking and sucking. "I want to hear what else you do. What do you think about?"

She grabbed her breasts and pushed them together, and he sighed and received them gratefully, burying his face in them. She reveled in the new-found power she had over him.

"Well, after I ruined your clothes and went to bed, I thought about _you_ last night."

"Oh gods," he groaned. He surged up farther on the bed and kissed her hard and she realized that power ran both ways. Her thoughts shattered as he finally broke free from whatever had been restraining him. His tongue wasted no time sliding into her mouth, and she clawed his shirt off with trembling hands while kicking at the bed to get that damned sock off. He started to snap his hips with more urgency.

"Granger, I don't think I can keep being gentle."

"Oh, for mercy's sake, stop being gentle! Why are you being gentle?"

"Because you're a virgin! I was afraid of hurting you, or scaring you!"

"Gods, you've been _boring_ me! This is so much better!"

"I'm sorry." He kissed her on the mouth. "It was your first time." He kissed her on the cheek. "I thought I was supposed to go slow. Make it less traumatic or some shite." He kissed her on the earlobe and then sucked it into his mouth as she let out a low moan and clenched around his cock. "Oh, Merlin!" He surged within her. "I've been trying not to come since I pulled your knickers down. I've been imagining you were Pomona Sprout. It's been so long for me, and you're too beautiful for your own good, Granger. I'm not going to last."

"Then don't! I don't want to be made love to, I want to shag. I've been wanting someone to shag me for years! I don't care if you only last one minute, just make it a minute I'll remember when I've shriveled away."

"I'll give you more than one minute, Granger. I'll do you everyway you've been thinking about when you diddle yourself in the dark of the night, if that's what you want." He pushed up off of her and flipped her over with a strength that left her breathless.

"On your knees, witch. Let's make this count, hmm?" He didn't wait for a response before he slid himself between her folds and pushed into her. "Circe's teats, you're so hot, Granger. You're so tight I almost broke something trying not to lose control."

"I want you to lose control…"

He growled and bent over and licked her shoulders as he started to pound into her while one hand played with her nipples. Hermione began a low moan that rose in volume and tone until she was keening under him. She felt her orgasm building and reveled in the sounds and the feeling of his sharp hipbones slapping against her. He pushed himself back, and she straightened out her arms and started to meet his thrusts. He let lose a wild snarl from deep in his chest, and she answered with a high-pitched cry of her own. One of his hands snaked along her spine and grabbed up a fistful of her hair and tugged on it. His other hand dug into her hip.

She blew apart with a wail. Her release came faster than she had expected and she had an instant of sadness that it had let go already. Despite what she had said, she was sure this would be her only time, and she wished it could have lasted forever.

"Yesss," he hissed and after a few more thrusts, she felt him pulse deep within her while he moaned and whined above her. He lowered himself onto her back, and she could feel his heart slamming in his chest. She collapsed slowly to the bed, and he shifted slightly. They ended up with her on her stomach while he draped bonelessly against her left side with one leg curled over hers. His warm hand coasted up and down the length of her side.

"Was that more like it?" he asked in a deep, raspy voice. The words held a note containing the smallest trace of insecurity, only noticeable because the note held its sustain after the other tones faded. She rolled languorously until she was facing his glittering black eyes.

"That was exactly like it."

He smiled, and she drew back as his eyes took on a crafty look. "Stay here," he said, rolling off the bed and grabbing at his trousers.

"Where-"

He silenced her with a kiss. "No questions."

She watched him, bemused, as he closed up his trousers and threw his cloak on without bothering with a shirt. He picked up his wand and with a devilish smirk, he vanished with a crack.

Hermione sat up in the bed and looked around. He'd left behind his shirts, his boxers and one sock. Where the hell did he go?

She had just come back from a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up and crawled back under the blankets when he arrived with another crack. His robe flared out as he finished his turn and the sight of his pale, naked chest draped in black cloth made her toes curl.

"What-"

He held up a hand containing a large potion bottle. "I brewed this months ago when I was planning my campaign to sleep with at least a third of the witches in Britain."

"Only a third?"

"I factored in the too young, too old, the sick, and the distasteful."

"Oh. Very logical."

"Not really, I forgot to factor in the too stupid." He set the unmarked bottle down by the bed, along with a jar that was unmistakably healing salve. He stripped back out of his few articles of clothing. She flipped the corner of the blankets to the side, and he slid in next to her and pulled her into his arms.

"Did you go back to Spinner's End? Wasn't that foolish? Why on earth would you do that?"

"I did. I was fine." He reached over and uncorked the bottle. "And for this." He drank a sip and put the bottle down so he could curl both of his arms around her. He rolled over and pulled her on top of him and kissed her. A moment later, she felt his renewed arousal poking her in the leg.

"Oh!" she said without breaking the kiss.

"Indeed," he replied. "You deserved more than a minute."

"How many doses of that can you take?"

"Until you run out of ways you want to be ravished, or I faint. Whichever comes first." She lifted up, smiled down on him as if he was a shiny new toy, grabbed him by both ears, and snogged him for all she was worth.

She finally broke away and asked, "Can I ravish you too?"

He only managed a strangled gurgle and a vigorous nod.

They hit the sheets running, making splendid use of his potion and a good bit of use out of the healing salve and a few minor healing spells along the way as well. They managed every position that had every entered her lonely thoughts in the dark of the night. She rode him. Then he rode her. Then he took her bent over the chest of drawers. Then she had him bent over the chest of drawers. Then they made their way to the tub, where he licked her clean from head to sensitive toes. She returned the favor. Then they went back into the bed. In the end, no one actually fainted, but they did both slide into unconsciousness rather soon after managing their first simultaneous orgasm. He called her deliciously depraved, and it was the best compliment she'd heard in ages.

* * *

When she grabbed a quick shower in the morning, she traced the love bites and slight finger-shaped bruises on her hips. She smiled a secretive little smile. She'd been well and truly shagged, and it was by far the best experience of her life. Which was just as well, since she was fairly sure it probably going to be the only time of her life. After all, Severus was probably still planning on conquering a third of the witches in Britain.

Her smile fell, but only for a moment. She refused to let her emotions get the best of her. If Severus was interested in something more, surely he would have said as much at some point last night. He'd been rather open about his desire to sleep with as many women as possible. No doubt he'd already had a few. She remembered the way the women threw themselves at him at the awards dinner. He was quite the catch. She would have to be content with the fact that he'd not only taken her virginity, but he'd rushed to her rescue as well. And how many of those future women would he steal cars with? She smiled at that memory. Hopefully they could stay friends. She really did enjoy his company.

* * *

Severus Snape woke up desperately thirsty, delightfully sore, and smug from knowing that he'd been so decadently used. The woman had even licked his arsehole. He should think about marrying her.

He was smiling. Even the Fates themselves had probably lost track of the last time Severus Snape woke up smiling.

He rolled over to gather her into his arms and found she was gone. He sat up. Her clothes were gone as well. He padded across the floor to the bathroom and found it empty. His hand came up and stroked at the sudden pain in his chest. Right. That's the way of it then. She'd only wanted her virginity taken, and he'd done that six ways to Sunday. He'd been a fool to think, even for a moment, that it might have only been a beginning. Suddenly feeling used didn't carry the same emotions at all.

She'd probably met up with Potter and Weasley and would head to Spinner's End with them. Whatever strain had been placed on that dynamic over the years had obviously been in the process of repairing itself.

Snape gathered up his clothes and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. When he saw the open bottles of shampoo and conditioner, he blasted them with his wand. Bar soap had done just fine for over forty years.

The warm water soothed his torn feelings and logic started to assert itself. The girl had only asked for him to sleep with her. She hadn't intimated that she would be amenable to anything else.

He could easily admit he'd been smitten with the woman. She was pretty much tailor-made for him. She was clever, kind, spirited, beautiful. She didn't seem to understand that she was supposed to think less of him now. That in itself was a rather powerful draw. He would have found that fact attractive even if she'd been ugly. But she wasn't. She was gorgeous - at least he thought so - and once you got her clothes off she was fantastically uninhibited.

Snape looked down when he felt himself start to stir in response to just a few quick sketches of last night's memories. "Give it up, old boy. You're done for this decade, at least." He rinsed himself off in cold water and grabbed a towel.

Despite his stung feelings and dashed hopes he hadn't fully formed, Hermione was still worth having as an acquaintance. There were precious few people in his life that didn't seem to judge him and find him lacking somehow. He would do his best not to lash out at her because his ego was bruised. The attempt should be worth a laugh at any rate.

"Steady on, Snape," he muttered to his blurry reflection in the steamed mirror.

"Say again? I didn't catch that," came a muffled voice.

He wrenched his head around toward the closed door. She was back. She was right there on the other side of the door. He should burst through the door and grab her and never let her go. He shook his wet hair out of his face. No, he should get a grip on himself. The fifteen minutes he'd spent thinking she'd left him were warning enough. He would get hurt. He always did. This woman in particular, could hurt him beyond repair.

"I said: 'I'll be out in a moment.'" he shouted.

"Take your time," she called back through the door. "I went and grabbed us a bit of breakfast; I was starving. I fancied some nice scones, I hope you approve."

Snape didn't respond. He just swiped at the mirror with one hand and scowled at himself before picking up his razor from his kit. He could have easily Vanished the stubble with his wand, but he preferred the Muggle method. It was more meditative and more dangerous. It helped to order his thoughts. It also took longer, and he needed a moment to collect himself before he stepped through that door.

* * *

And there you go...


	11. Cat and Mouse

**AN:** Thank you to all my betas. This one's for Hebe GB, who's having a bit of a bad day...

* * *

Spinner's End was crowded. Harry looked around as everyone finished their tea and buzzed in a dozen different conversations. Arthur, George, Percy, and Bill Weasley were all there, as well as the Malfoys. Lavender and Ron had left their children at Draco's estate with Luna, Molly, and Fleur so they could be here as well. Seamus Finnigan, Katie Bell, and Susan Bones were there as well. Harry had called up those few people he knew he could trust with his life. He'd wanted to call Neville, but Snape had forbade it, saying no one from Hogwarts could be trusted. He sighed in frustration. There were so many more he would have called on, but they just couldn't make any mistakes in this. Ginny wrapped a hand around his and squeezed. He looked at her and smiled.

"Crazy that this is what it took to get everyone back together, isn't it?" he said.

"No. Not really. Not when you think about our history." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

Snape strode back into the room. He'd changed his clothes, and he made quite a sight. He wore cut off khaki trousers that were too large and a splotchy grey shirt with matching splotchy grey vest underneath. He'd also recreated his original injuries using a glamour, and if they looked every bit as nasty as Ron had described.

"Did you turn up anything last night?" Snape asked Harry.

"Only that Caleb Jones, recently treated for an Apparition injury, has done a bunk. The fingers Hermione and Snape brought with them matched the hospital tissue report. It's definitely him. None of his neighbors have a clue where he's gone. However Markus Kirk, treated for an eye injury, is missing as well. His neighbors were rather forthcoming with the names of a few of his associates. He seems to owe everyone money and has no friends in Knockturn. Most of his associates turned up missing as well. That puts the numbers at around eleven, but I would guess more.

"I ran all the names through our records office, and they all are petty, small-time hoodlums. No one has a history of kidnapping; just B&E and GBH stuff. Here's a list of names along with the list of witches and wizards my people saw in Glossop in the last two days." Harry handed the lists to Hermione who had just finished reading Draco's list of suddenly-social acquaintances. Snape nodded and accepted the tea Narcissa made for him with casual grace.

Something was odd between Snape and Hermione. Harry had picked up on it right away and so had Ginny. They just couldn't decide what was going on. They were both unfailingly polite to each other—one could say more than polite—but they had both stayed on opposite sides of the room from each other and never made eye-contact. Ginny had said she was pretty sure they'd slept together last night. Harry wasn't convinced. Surely there would have been more emotion one way or another.

Harry's thoughts were scattered when Hermione suddenly jumped up with an inarticulate shout.

"Got you! You total bitch!" She started waving Harry's lists around the room while doing a little dance. "We've found her!" Harry was confused. There weren't any women's names on the list.

Snape came across the room and snatched the parchment out of her hand and began perusing it. "Perhaps you'd like to share just who we've found, Granger."

"Our hidden Hogwarts connection! Look, right there!" She stabbed a finger down on the parchment, earning herself and disdainful eyebrow.

"Arcturus Vine?" Snape read. She nodded her head enthusiastically.

"We've been looking for a name that appears on all of these lists. There are several, besides all of us, that are on _most_ of the lists, but only one shows up on this list," she held up one of the lists Harry gave her, "and has a connection with that list." She pointed at the list in Snape's hand.

"Who's Arcturus Vine?" asked Arthur.

"Arcturus Vine is the kind of criminal that you think is fun to have as an uncle if you're a young and easily impressed sixth-year, but embarrassing if he's your brother. If he's your brother, and you want to make your way in respectable society, you might change your name and pretend he doesn't exist. If you're not too bright, you don't change your name all that much."

"And you know all this because?" Ron asked with mock annoyance at her lecturing tone.

"Because I work with his niece, Romilda _Vane_. Who was seen casually strolling in a Muggle bookshop in Glossop the other night, and who has been remarkably social lately!" Hermione waved several lists around in the air. The older Weasleys and Malfoys looked confused by the universal reaction among the younger people in the room. Especially Lavender, who had thrown both hands around Ron's arm and started to mutter dire threats. Hermione explained. "She tried to slip Harry a love philter in sixth-year, but got Ron instead." The room buzzed as people put the pieces together.

"Not to cast doubts on your logic, but how do we know this girl is responsible? Things are rather circumstantial from the look of it," said Lucius. "After all, one is not defined by the criminal actions of their relatives." The words were mild, but Harry heard the unmistakable message clearly enough. If Romilda Vane was tarnished by her uncle, how much more tarnished would Xeno and Selene Malfoy be? If they were wrong, they could ruin innocent lives.

"We're not, and we still have no usable proof that Dumbledore's portrait is responsible," said Harry. "I need this nailed down before we can move forward. It must be done to the letter of the law or my career is over." Harry looked at his wife. "However, careers aren't everything." Ginny blessed him with a beatific smile that made his heart stutter in his chest.

"Bring me Kingsley and Minerva," intoned Snape. "I'll get your proof."

* * *

Harry was in the Minister's office discussing the latest dead-end in the search for Hermione when a Patronus in the form of a doe bounded into the room. Kingsley and Harry exchanged curious glances as the silvery beast seemed to collect itself and then exude a haughty grace. Snape's voice issued forth.

"She's safe. I have her hidden. I will meet with you in one hour."

Kingsley and Harry enthused about their happy surprise and slapped each other on the back. The portrait of Albus Dumbledore offered hearty congratulations and then slipped out of his frame.

Kingsley and Harry continued on for a bit—discussing the logistics of recalling all the Aurors in the field—and then headed swiftly for the Floos in the Atrium.

* * *

Snape stumbled through the Floo and caught himself on the back of a leather wing chair. He looked dreadful. His strange clothes and terrible injuries told of a harsh few days.

"Severus! So glad to see you, my boy! Are you alright? Do you have Miss Granger?"

He turned and looked back up at the portrait over the fireplace. "She's safe. I have her hidden at an old Muggle farmhouse."

"Are you sure she's safe there?"

"Yes, it's remote, and the elderly woman who lived there passed away four months ago. Mrs. Platt's sons keep an eye on it from a distance. They were her closest neighbors. As long as Professor Granger isn't seen outside, no one will bother her, and no wizard would think to look in a Muggle house."

"Did you recover the Goblin Promissory Note?"

Snape lifted a disdainful eyebrow. "Who cares about the money, Albus? But if it will get you to stop prattling sooner, yes. Granger has it on her. She'll stay there until I know she's safe enough to return, then we will bring the note back to Gringotts for the goblins to destroy. I think it best for her to hide for a few more days. We still have no idea who broke into Hogwarts and snatched her."

He sneered and started to limp away.

"Wait, I have more questions," the portrait called.

"And I have things to do. I must bring her food, and I have to meet with Potter in forty-five minutes. I also need to dress my injuries."

"Severus, I must insist you stop. I have more questions."

Snape whirled around and snarled. "And I don't have to answer them."

"Snape, you don't want to do this. You're life could become rather unhappy if you insist on these petty displays of independence."

"Do you really believe the world will think I'm a coward based on the word of a portrait, Albus? I just rescued a young woman, single-handedly, from a pack of villains. No, you'll have to find another puppet to join the Wizengamot for you. I've cut your strings, old man." Snape turned and walked slowly out of the room while the portrait called for his return and threatened him with increasingly dire consequences if he failed to pay heed.

Below and out of the portrait's sight, Kingsley Shacklebolt pulled his shaking head out of the still open Floo connection. Harry Potter kept the connection open, staring into the drawing room for a long time before his wife's hand could be seen pulling him away.

* * *

A light step was the only sound heard, but even a light step could echo when the Library at Hogwarts was empty, especially to those that had sensitive ears. The tell-tale shiver of magic chased hairs along spines as a powerful Silencing Spell was put into place around the portrait hung by the entrance to the Restricted Section.

"Reporting in for my update, Albus. Any new developments?"

"Indeed, Professor. It seems we've had a lucky break. You might get your promotion after all, and your uncle might still get his money."

The teacher and the portrait hurriedly discussed new plans and then the spell was cancelled, and the teacher slipped away to send urgent messages while the rest of the school was at dinner.

After another fifteen minutes, a small, silver tabby with distinctive markings rose up from its place on the shelf behind the portrait and stretched before dropping down to the floor and padding away in silence.

* * *

Minerva stepped through the Floo into Spinner's End.

"Here," she said, handing Severus a pair of small spectacles. "Hermione's gone long enough without these, I think."

"She seems to read well enough without them," he said, as he placed them carefully in his breast pocket.

"She doesn't need them to read; she needs them to see more than four feet. I'm surprised she didn't tell you that."

"No wonder she didn't realize we were walking in circles."

Minerva snorted and took a moment to dust herself off and looked about the dingy cellar.

"I must say, Severus. I do prefer your new home."

"As do I, but this one doesn't have a resident sociopath limned in rancid linseed," he answered as he directed her up the stairs. She laughed and preceded him out of the cellar. She looked around the drab kitchen and warmly greeted the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Harry and Ginny Potter who offered her some much needed tea.

"Well, all our suspicions were confirmed," she said. "Romilda met with Albus during dinner. They discussed plans on how to make the most of a situation that got away from them. She's going to find the address of the farm and send her uncle and his gang out tonight to eliminate Hermione and regain the Goblin Promissory Note." She looked around. "Where's Hermione?"

"She's at the farmhouse," Harry said. He held up a hand to forestall Minerva's concern. "Everyone else is there as well. They're securing the location, casting Anti-Muggle Charms and finding places to hide and wait."

"Excellent," Minerva replied.

"Did you find out anything else useful for our case?" asked Kingsley.

"Oh yes, indeed. I discovered on whom they planned to use the Malfoy dagger."

Severus raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Me. It seems I was to be murdered by a Malfoy, and with Albus's wise council guaranteed, Professor Vane would be appointed the next Headmistress. Not to worry. They've changed plans there as well. They've decided to use it on you, Severus. You're now considered a dangerous liability."

Kingsley muttered a string of oaths. Snape didn't react, other than to frown and rub his lip with a finger, something he always did when plotting. Harry turned away and left the room. Ginny started after him, but Minerva stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm and walked into the sitting room.

"I understand what you're feeling, Harry," she said as she sat down next to him on the settee. "Albus didn't betray you, and he didn't order my death. Albus died atop the Astronomy Tower that night. He gave his life willingly for one last chance to tip the scales in favor of the Light." She patted Harry's knee as he teared up. "That portrait kept us feeling connected. It kept us from feeling he was lost completely. It gave us something we don't usually get in life: a way to talk with our departed." Harry started to nod his head, agreeing with her. "But there is something terrible wrong with that portrait. They think, they remember, they interact, just as the living person did. But as this portrait learns new things, interprets new experiences, the flaws become more pronounced. It's deviated from the true Albus in a way that Albus himself never would have, nor would he have tolerated."

"It's not just that," Harry said, swiping at his eyes under his glasses. "It's all the things I found out about him after he died-the way he used people. I know he did it for the good of all, but I've had such a hard time reconciling it. The ends don't always justify the means. The portrait always managed to make me feel better, to settle my mind. Now I have no idea what's a lie and what's the truth. I feel like I've been manipulated my entire life."

"I can't help you there, Mr. Potter. You have been. That much is true. You'll have to find your way through that. Your wife can help, as well as your friends. Ron and Hermione were pretty well manipulated right along with you. And you might talk to Severus about it as well. There's no one who was used harder and for less reward than Severus. Yet he seems to have come through rather well. Perhaps when this is over, you can talk to him." She stood up and smoothed down her robes. "Whoever you chose to talk to, young man, just make sure you talk. When you get tired of the sound of your own voice, then you'll be ready to put it behind you." Minerva walked back to the doorway of the kitchen. "I'll leave you all to get on with your business. I must return to the school. Good luck and be careful."

Severus escorted her down the stairs to the Floo. "I thank you, Minerva. Your information was invaluable."

"I must say, Severus, listening to people plot your murder is unpleasant. I would rather skip the experience in the future."

"I can tell you that listening to people plan how you are going to murder them is probably a little more disconcerting," he replied with a twisted smile.

Minerva stopped and gave him a long stare. "Yes. I can see where that would be even stranger." She patted him on the arm and turned to the Floo. "I'm not sure I've ever actually said how honored I am to have you as a friend, Severus. I am, you know. Quite." She spun away into the Floo network laughing at the shocked expression she'd left behind.

* * *

Hermione paced the length of the kitchen trying to work off the nervous energy that accrued from being bait. Ron and the rest of the Weasleys, Malfoys, and other friends that had come to their aid were outside somewhere lying in wait for whatever fate awaited her. Harry, Ginny, and Severus had shown up earlier and held an impromptu meeting out in the paddock. Everyone was set and ready. All they had to do was wait. And wait.

The sound of a toilet flushing drew her back to the moment. Poor Snape. The waiting was taking its toll on his kidneys. At least he had a decent floor to stand on again. She'd fixed that as soon as she got here.

He walked back into the kitchen and accepted the cup of tea she'd brewed with a curt nod, then drifted off towards the sitting room. She looked back down the hall, towards the bathroom, and indulged herself with a memory of him striding purposefully toward her and snogging her senseless. Was it really only yesterday morning? The memories of last night tried to crowd in. She shoved them away angrily.

She closed her eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. The whole "we can still be friends" thing had quickly turned into: "we can be really awkward and avoid eye contact." It had started as soon as they'd woken up this morning. She'd returned with food and high hopes, only to have them dashed when he'd billowed out of the bathroom looking as greasy as ever and eyed her with a certain amount of disdain, frowning at the paper cup full of coffee she'd offered him. Things had rapidly devolved from there.

She'd had a brief hope that returning to this house would rekindle the familiarity they'd shared, but it only made things worse. They were painfully cordial to each other. If Hermione had any hopes of maintaining any kind of friendship with the inscrutable man, she'd have to work fast. As thing stood now, he would most likely save her, assume he'd done it in the most cowardly way, and waltz off without a backwards glance. She pushed her glasses back up on her nose, picked up her tea and followed him into the sitting room.

"Severus, I don't want things to be awkward between us. If I'd known last night would ruin a friendship I've come to value, I wouldn't have allowed it. Can we put it behind us and go back to the two people that stomped across the moor? I want to be friends."

Snape looked at her with expressions chasing across his face that she didn't have enough experience to read. He finally looked down at his lap.

"I don't really know how to be a friend, Granger. I've not had many."

"You have Lucius and Narcissa. They are both out there in the dark on your word."

"As much as I consider them friends, it is not the type of friendship you share with Weasley and Potter. Our relationships are older and more formal. One doesn't easily get past the knowledge that we would have cheerfully killed each other had the Dark Lord demanded it. It tends to put a damper on things."

He looked at her with a subtle mixture of humor, sadness, and ennui.

"What about when you were younger? You had Lily-"

"Don't! I'll not have that from you!" he snapped.

Her words stuck in her throat at the look of exasperation on his face. It was the first unguarded expression she'd seen all day. "I don't understand," she said.

"Do you want to know the truth, Granger?" he asked with a note of what sounded like hysteria in his voice.

"Absolutely," she replied.

"I hated that woman," he blurted with triumph. "I hated her for years before she died. She was a self-absorbed social-climber. Harry's told you about his Aunt Petunia, hasn't he?" She nodded. "Well, Lily fell from the same apple tree."

"But—I don't understand. Your memories—" His eloquent snort cut her off.

"I edited those memories, Granger. That's why Albus's portrait thought he had so much power over me. He knows the truth."

"How could you edit them? You were dying!"

"It's amazing what you can do when you're free. I lived my whole life afraid to die. In that moment that I knew it was inevitable; I felt incredibly free." He looked at the lone candle illuminating the room. "It was as if I had all the time in the world. As my life flashed before my eyes, I plucked out certain scenes and strung them together in differing contexts. I could even change the tone and emphasis—a bit like making a daydream a reality. It was not a total success, a few ugly things slipped into the mix."

"Why would you do that?"

His mouth twisted up into a pained expression. "I didn't want to be remembered as a coward. I thought if this was going to be my last word, then it will be the one I want people to hear."

"Oh, Severus," she said taking his hand. "I do wish you would put that behind you. If only you could see yourself from my perspective."

He looked at her and gave her a small smile. "I don't think your perspective really counts, Granger. I've come to the conclusion that you're as daft as the Lovegood girl, only less obvious."

She dropped his hand and harrumphed. "Tell me about the real Lily. Why make up such a great love story? The seventh-year girls are always swooning about your fabled 'selfless devotion to the love of your life.'"

"They're not the only ones. Trust me on that." He rolled his eyes and finished his tea. "Two reasons. I needed Potter to trust the information I had to give him, and I sought a bit of perverse revenge on Lily."

"Why?"

"Because I did love her. Once." He settled back against the cushions. "We were friends. She was the first and only friend I'd ever known. But she changed after we arrived at Hogwarts. Oh, not quickly. It took a while. But the change was inevitable. I didn't handle it well at all. Loneliness makes you desperate. However, age gives you perspective. Lily was just Lily. She was a normal girl with all the strengths and weaknesses that come with it. She wanted to be liked. We'd both grown up in the same area. It was rougher and poorer thirty years ago. She wanted a new life, and who could blame her? When she saw how unpopular I was, she decided our friendship was a liability. At first she tried to 'fix' me, but eventually she gave up. She stopped speaking to me. She grew closer to the very people who had chosen to make my life hell. After we stopped being friends, she told the others-the Marauders-all the personal little secrets I'd ever admitted to from the time we were little. They would torment me. I couldn't retaliate, because I was outnumbered. So I would pick them off, one by one. She would always come screeching at me in the halls when I'd gotten the better of her precious Potter, telling me that a real man wouldn't hide behind a tree."

"She called you a coward," Hermione said, barely restraining the growing anger in her voice. He nodded and looked away.

"And that's when you started to hate her?"

"Ha! If only I'd been so strong. No, I'm afraid the truth is I tried to earn back her friendship. I doted on her. She was rather susceptible to flattery. I actually did get her in bed. To her it was a lark. She'd been mad at Potter, and I was more than willing to be a bit of revenge. I was hopelessly infatuated. She used me for Potions notes by stringing me along and then would laugh at me behind my back. She took credit for a lot of things I did, and I was too stupid to see it. When I did get a clue, I embarrassed myself even more. I didn't have any pride. I basically turned into a stalker. I'm not proud of it. Eventually I was too caught up in trying not to die young and stupid at the hands of a madman, and my infatuation faded away. When I did think of her, it was with the anger and hatred that usually comes when you realize you've made yourself into a laughingstock."

Hermione digested everything slowly. "So your grief when she died?"

Snape's head spun around, and he pinned her with an angry glare. "That was real, Granger. She may have been a right bitch when we were in school, but she still shouldn't have died. Once upon a time, she was my only friend, and I killed her. I ruined several lives that night."

She took hold of his hand again, and he didn't resist.

"Severus, if she wasn't the great, lost love that you painted her out to be, then explain to me about your Patronus."

He snorted, "I can make my Patronus look like anything I want it to."

Her brows shot up in surprise. "That's a handy trick. Did Albus know that?"

"No. The man used me for twenty years. He found a way to exploit every little thing. I learned to keep some things to myself."

"So what's its true shape?"

He looked at her for a long time, but then answered. "It's a bloody mouse."

She grimaced in sympathy. "That's unfortunate."

"I'm sure you can understand why I would research the hows and whys of changing them."

"Indeed." She smiled and reached for his cup. "More tea?" He handed it to her with a nod. "Well, I think I like your true story better, Severus. It brings you down to my level a bit. You were larger than life before and far too intimidating."

"I would have thought that forcing me to vomit all over you while starkers would have done that already."

She burst out with a delighted laugh, and he smiled.

"Well, it did start the ball rolling, so to speak, but I don't think you realize just how high above us all you seemed."

Hermione was still smiling as she walked through the dinning room and into the kitchen. She was glad she'd taken the initiative and broken through the block they'd put in place. She really did like him better knowing he was just as flawed and human as the rest of the world.

As she came around the corner, a wand jabbed into her throat.

"Don't even breathe, girly."

She didn't. But she did drop the cups.

* * *

Woo! Yay! Fight! _FIGHT!_ I mean, *ahem*, there will be a bit of a conflict in the next chapter...


	12. Confrontations

AN: Lots of love to my beta team, and my reviewers.

Not Mine, No Money.

And now... _FIIIIGHT!_

* * *

Snape basked in the glow of having told the truth about himself and being even more accepted. It was certainly a novel experience. He was starting to believe that being friends with Granger was going to be rather satisfying. He still wanted to grab her and stretch her naked body across the coffee table, but she was most likely correct when she'd pointed out that sexual relations had almost ruined the easy camaraderie they'd shared. He preferred the camaraderie. He reached down and adjusted himself. He suspected this friendship was going to take a lot more adjustment on his part.

The crash of broken china in the kitchen brought his head up. He almost wandered after her to see if she was alright, but then snapped fully into the moment and remembered where they were and why they were here. His heart seized in his chest as fear clawed at him with icy talons.

'_Hermione!' _his mind shouted. He exploded off the couch.

Snape boiled into the kitchen like a furious storm cloud. He let loose a murderous snarl as his first spell lit up the house like a beacon. His second petrified the man holding Hermione at wand point. His third sent another man's entrails spilling across the floor. He swung around on the fourth and a man's head exploded from his shoulders. He never got off a fifth.

A vicious spike of fear stabbed his chest, and he froze. Suddenly his fear consumed him, and he was overwhelmed by the need to run away. He turned his head and saw Hermione reaching for him in terror, but he recoiled away from her as she was engulfed in flames. His hands slapped against his ears to muffle the sounds as her dying shrieks filled the room. The vacuum pops of Apparition filled the room. The kitchen was suddenly packed with people shouting and shrieking and calling to him for help. Potter when down screaming, and Narcissa stretched out an imploring arm to him, only to be cut down from behind while he watched. All around him the people that had come here to fight because they trusted him were tortured with Crucio before his eyes, while he stood there paralyzed with fear and did nothing. He looked at his Hermione as her death throes stilled and felt his soul shrivel away. The familiar warmth of his own urine running down his legs finally stirred him into action. He turned and fled.

* * *

Harry swept his head back and forth across the small, dilapidated farmhouse below. His position on the hill along with the full moon allowed for a good view. They'd been waiting for hours; it was two in the morning by his watch. The Muggle neighbors had all been placed under a sleep spell that would break with the dawn.

His eyes told him everything was fine, but his Auror instincts had gone on alert and he trusted them more. Something was not right.

A blinding light exploded from every window—_Snape's signal!_ Harry yelled and jumped up, Apparating directly into the kitchen along with several others. It was a madhouse. Almost a dozen people in Death Eater robes were swarming into the kitchen. Harry immediately threw a shield charm on Hermione as she twisted out of the grasp of a Petrified Death Eater. Draco appeared and immediately slipped in some offal on the floor, but Seamus grabbed his arm and steadied him as he shot off a binding spell at another so-called Death Eater. Lucius swore in disgust. Apparently, real Death Eaters didn't squeal.

More masked bandits appeared, and Harry feared they would be outnumbered, but it was quickly obvious that the fight was lop-sided. The petty thugs weren't trained for this kind of combat. Mostly pick-pockets and burglars, their skills seemed limited to arriving silently. They threw weak curses and hexes, and many seemed frozen into inaction by the horror of a fast, brutal death.

Everyone who had come with Harry had seen bloody combat, and the lessons learned didn't fade. The Weasleys subdued their enemies with grim determination. Draco and Seamus almost seemed to be enjoying themselves as they took turns taking down foes. Katie and Susan made their way along the edge of the mob with calm precision, working as a team to stun and restrain. Lavender and Ginny removed hexes on their team quickly, until so few were landing that they turned and began to help clear the room instead.

Lucius Malfoy was the scariest. He showed no emotion except disdain as he moved through the house casually destroying those that had tried to harm his family. Harry had to shriek at him to stop him from killing. With a moue of disappointment, he simply started melting their fake masks to their faces. The stench of burned flesh added to that of the spilled guts and was quickly overwhelming.

One masked man sent off a Patronus before Narcissa Malfoy took him out with an elegantly thrown Incarcerous. It was over quickly.

Harry had just helped Ginny petrify the last of them when he heard Hermione scream.

"Do something!" she shrieked, cradling the fallen Snape. Blood pooled on the floor beneath his body in a rapidly expanding circle.

The Malfoy's cursed dagger protruded from his chest. Lucius moved quickly. He Petrified Snape and pushed Hermione out of the way as he levitated his friend and wrapped his arms around him.

"I need to get him to St Mungo's. I can't remove the dagger or the curse without a Healer right there, or he'll bleed to death."

"Go!" shouted Harry. Lucius and Snape were gone with a loud crack. "Arthur, take Bill and Draco and follow them." He saw Hermione ready to Apparate and shouted for her to stop.

"I need to make sure he's alright!" she snapped.

"You need to stay with us until we're sure we have them all rounded up," he retorted.

"Mi, he's right. You're a target," Ron said. "Help us here. If he found out we let something happen to you after it was all over, he'll be a bit angry, now wouldn't he?"

Harry watched Hermione struggle, but then she dropped her shoulders and nodded.

"Alright," she said.

"The rest of us need to finish securing the survivors and get them into custody. I can't call in my Aurors until we know that portrait has been taken care of. Then we need to clean this place up as if we were never here."

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter," Narcissa Malfoy interrupted. "This gentleman has just kindly volunteered the information that his name is Arcturus Vine, and he just sent a message off to his niece." Harry looked from the man bound up on the floor to the coolly elegant woman standing over him. The look in Narcissa's icy eyes froze Harry's blood just a little. He was glad he hadn't seen what she'd done to get him talking. The Malfoys might be fighting on the side of good now, but they both seemed to be a little fuzzy on the definition of good. Based on the varying body parts all over the floor when he'd arrived, so was Snape. Reformed Death Eaters made lousy Aurors.

* * *

Professor Romilda Vane woke from a sound sleep to see her uncle's Patronus, a magpie, flapping around her bed. When she sat up, it spat its message: "They were expecting us! We're done for! Run for it, Millie"—and faded away.

She rolled out of bed and leapt into action.

Dressed now, and with her prized possessions shrunken down and filling her pockets, Romilda slipped out of her door and raced silently down the corridor. She didn't see or hear the spell that sent her sprawling across the floor unconscious.

Neville Longbottom stepped out of the shadows and stood over his victim for a moment. He then nodded to other shadows. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Professor Flitwick stepped out into the torchlight.

"That's some neat spell work there, Neville."

"Thanks, Filius. Let's secure her and bring her to the Headmistress."

* * *

The doors of the library opened and closed, and the portrait listened as a heavy tread made its way over toward the Restricted Section. It wasn't the light tread he'd been hoping for, but then he wasn't expecting her until dawn. He was surprised when he saw who it was.

"Hagrid! You're up late. What brings you to the Library at this hour?"

"I've come for you Professor Dumbledore, sir."

"Me?"

"Aye. I'm to take you to the incinerator. Headmistress' orders." The half-giant plucked the painting off the wall.

"There must be some mistake, my boy. Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because I volunteered, Headmaster. And don' you think you can try and make me feel bad, either. The real Dumbledore wouldn'a' tried to hurt our Hermione. Yer just a bad copy of the original."

The painting and the frame ignited easily once tossed into the fire, but the occupant had long since slipped away to another portrait by that point.

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt was back at his desk reading through hastily written reports of the night's activities. He rubbed at his tired eyes and smoothed a hand across his scalp. Soon, he would put this sorry business behind him and spend the weekend catching up on some much needed sleep. A movement caught his eye.

"Hello, Albus," he said drawing his wand. "I've been expecting you."

"Have you, Kingsley? May I ask why?"

"Oh, just to tell you that you failed. Snape is going to live. Hermione is fine. We recovered the note and will have the goblins destroy it in the morning. We've caught your co-conspirator and her uncle's entire gang."

"Minister, I assure you that whatever you may have heard-"

"Please, don't do that. You're not very good at it, you know. That's what first tipped Snape off. You're just not that good at being subtle. Albus was. You seem to only see things in two dimensions. You tried to play a game when you didn't even remember all the rules. It's a shame really. You had a lot of knowledge that could have been useful."

Kingsley lifted his wand and destroyed the frame as the portrait fled.

* * *

Ronald Weasley was sitting on the divan in Snape's drawing room, sipping the man's brandy, when Dumbledore slid into his frame. He whipped out his wand, and the portrait flinched but didn't flee.

"Ran out of frames, did you? What a pity," he said.

"Ronald, so good to see you, my boy," the portrait said with realistic warmth.

"Shame I can't say the same," Ronald flicked his wand, and a gag appeared across the painted mouth. "Hermione taught me that trick. Speaking of tricks, you've got some fancy charms on this frame, courtesy of Harry, to protect you. I think we've proved you're not so good at plotting with all that hubris in the way. So here's how it's going to happen, Professor. Unlike Hogwarts or the Ministry, you can't roam free here until your portrait is destroyed. You're well and truly trapped in this last frame of yours. You see, for some odd reason, Mr. Snape has an aversion to paintings. He prefers sculpture. Can't say I understand what he sees in that melted stone thing, but my wife tells me he probably empathizes.

"Which brings me to your problem, see? You, or what you've become, lack empathy. Art is supposed to be about empathy. So is life. In life, I suspect you had slightly less than the average to start. You learned a hard lesson because of it. In death, you've lost even that. I think that makes you fairly useless as an advisor. What good would your advice do if it lacks a fundamental human quality?"

The portrait frantically waved its hands, trying to communicate. "Don't worry Professor. I'm not here to be your final executioner. I'll save that for the man you tormented the most in life as well as in oils. No, I'm going to leave you gagged here as a final gift for Snape when he comes home from the hospital. We decided he deserves to decide what your fate is to be, since he's the one you hurt the most."

Ron gave the portrait one last, sad look and slipped into the Floo and vanished.

* * *

Severus Snape stared at the ceiling of St. Mungo's and contemplated the silence. He was recovering well from his injuries and would be released in a day or two. There was already talk from the staff about his receiving another award. He didn't know the truth of it because he'd refused all visitors when he'd first woken up. Not that it had reduced the amount of traffic in and out of his room. Several comely Healers made needless trips into his rooms to see if he lacked for anything. They often left Floo addresses discretely folded on the bedside table. He just looked at them blankly and then turned his face to the wall. They didn't know him, nor did they really care. They were just enamored by an ideal. A lie. A shadowy man that didn't really exist. Eventually, he'd demanded that no one but the Healer-in-charge be allowed in.

The door to his room creaked open, and Lucius Malfoy strolled in swinging his cane as carelessly elegant as ever. Snape scowled darkly at him and turned away.

"Snape, you look dreadful. Can no one here give you a shave?" Lucius turned and with a banal wave of his hand, he locked and warded the door. "Cissy sends her love. She was going to come, but then we heard you refused all visitors, so naturally, she declined. She always was one to indulge petulance. You could probably tell by Draco when he was younger." He grabbed a chair and dragged it closer to the bed, directly between Snape and the fraudulent view out the faux window. "I, on the other hand, detest petulance unless it's mine, so I have no problem being rude to an old friend when they act like a spoilt child."

Snape slid his eyes to the other man. "Are we friends, Lucius?" he asked.

Malfoy's face lost some of its hauteur. "I'm not actually sure what the meaning of that word is. Are we bosom friends, who tell bawdy jokes to each other and complain about the old ball and chain? There have been moments when we did such in our youth. Are we brothers-in-arms, who've forged a bond through bloodshed and common terror? Indubitably, even though several times the blood shed was between us. Are we boon companions, who can always be counted on to have a sympathetic ear when the other needs to unload a heavy pain? Well…that was never really our style, was it? That sort of thing was for the weak. You and I came of age knowing weaknesses were rewarded with death. So we simply didn't have any."

Lucius sat back heavily against the chair. "The thing is, the other night in your sitting room, when the young people just opened up and started spilling their weaknesses, I was ashamed. Not of them, but because of my own jealousy. I wanted a life where it was not that hard to just spit the poison out and have your peers make you stronger by accepting it. But we weren't allowed that." Lucius turned and looked out the window.

"You gave them the ability to be like that, Severus. Your sacrifices during the war, your subterfuge, your betrayal of our brotherhood. Without that, they would all still be carting around the pain in secret. Letting it eat them up inside until they were afraid to leave their house." He turned back towards Snape. "Those that were allowed to live, anyway. And when you think about it, had you not succeeded, of the people in that room that night, that would have only been limited to my wife and I as long as we didn't object too strenuously to our son being killed. Draco would never have survived being a Death Eater." He leaned in closer to Snape. "I think I prefer your world, Snape. I realize Potter did more than his fair share in bringing it about, but you are here, and so you are the one I will thank."

Snape looked down at his boney wrists sticking awkwardly out of the sleeves of his hospital robe. "Why have you come, Lucius?"

Malfoy reached out and clasped one of Snape's hands and squeezed. "Bear with me, my friend. I want to try something here." He pulled the chair even closer and leaned back in. He let go of Snape's hand and turned his own over and displayed his palm. "I nicked myself with that knife once." He pointed to an old, faded scar. "My mother was in the room at the time and removed the curse quickly when she saw what had happened. That's why it always hung on the wall after that." Snape looked up and stared intently at Malfoy, who nodded slightly. "The curse feeds on your greatest fear. It takes it and twists it and stuffs it down your gullet to choke on. I was ten years old, but I lived an eternity in the seven minutes I spent under that curse." Lucius's face twisted up in discomfort. "I want to tell you my greatest fear, Severus. I want to tell you about the fear that laid me up in my bed for a week after my hand had healed, clutching my pillows and crying in the dark of the night. I want to spit the poison out because I saw what it did for my Cissy. She's free again. Not perfect, not yet, but it will come. I want to be free, and I want you to be my friend, because there's no one else I can conceive of allowing myself to look weak in front of."

Snape gave him a solemn stare. "Tell me."

Lucius grimaced. "It probably won't come as a surprise to you, or anyone, really. My biggest fear when I was ten years old was insignificance. My father was an important man, respected amongst other important men. I was fully aware that there was no time for a child in his life. I suppose that was what started it. Perhaps, if I had not felt the curse, my biggest fear would have changed to spiders or horses or heights or some other mundane thing. But the curse locked it in. I spent nearly the rest of my life obsessed with making sure I was important. That I was powerful. That no matter how far down I descended, I was still someone who mattered. I feared insignificance more than I feared for my family. More than I feared the madman that we merrily helped to destroy our own lives. My fear controlled everything."

Lucius sat back and stared out at the fake vista. "And then my worst fears were realized. I lost it all. I bet on the wrong horse, and in the end, it was my wife who finally put my son's life before my own madness. The price I paid was small. For my crimes, I could easily have ended my days in Azkaban. Instead, I have become insignificant. I'm not evil enough to be reviled and feared. I'm not good enough to make amends in any way that will restore the slightest measure of significance to my life. After all these years, my worst fears came true, and do you know what I felt?"

"Free," Snape said. Lucius looked at him with a curious, almost childlike surprise on his face and smiled as he started to nod.

"You've felt it."

"The last years, after the Dark Lord came back, I spent all my time afraid I was going to die at any moment. That either I, or someone else, would slip and the Dark Lord would kill me. In those moments—after that blasted snake had tried to tear my throat out—I felt it. When the worst finally happens, it's curiously liberating."

"Is that your greatest fear, Severus?" he asked in a soft voice. "Dying?"

Snape snorted. "Hardly. Eventually, we all die. I just hope to do so in my own bed when the time comes. No. I my greatest fear is fear. I've been crippled by my fears my whole life. I'm a coward," he spat. "When the dagger cursed me, I saw myself as I always knew I was capable of being. Too terrified to do the right thing. I saw Granger die because I was too afraid to save her. They all died. Because of me."

"What a load of bollocks!" snapped Lucius. "If you've been crippled by your fears then I'm not sure the world would have been able to withstand what you'd have done without them. I understand the remorse you still feel over the innocent deaths you caused, but you didn't actually do so _knowingly_. You didn't condemn them to death and then stand there and watch. The Dark Lord did, and I helped. You tried to do something to stop it. What sort of coward would do that? Snape, you might be a bit of an odd duck, in my book, but you never turned from your duty. You weren't cut out to be a Death Eater because you were too good—something with which I've never been afflicted—not because you weren't fearless enough. You certainly had no problem harming others for the right cause the other night. You probably would have hogged all the fun if they hadn't stabbed you. If you'd been better at being evil, you'd have made a fine Death Eater." Lucius made a moue of distaste. "That lot running around the other night was an insult. They were disgraceful, if I may say so."

"Weren't they though? I thought so myself the night I rescued Granger. I was surprisingly affronted, another thing that's left me staring at the ceiling wondering about myself."

Lucius patted him on the wrist. "Don't let that worry you, old boy. Some things aren't worth examining too closely. They just are. When we were bad, we were much, much better at being bad. Just leave it at that." He stood up and adjusted his cloak with a twitch. "Be aware that the dagger will affect you for a few more days yet. The curse has been removed, but the residual effects take more time to wear off. Don't let your thoughts circle around until they paralyze you." He stepped closer to Snape and gave him a fond smile. "You're not a coward, Severus. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say." He backed away. "Cissy expects you for dinner next Tuesday. You haven't met our grandchildren and should consider yourself terribly remiss. We'll expect presents to make up for it. Xeno likes dragons, and Selene is fond of butterflies."

"Your granddaughter likes milk and a dry nappy. She's not old enough to like anything else yet."

"Luna assures me that she likes butterflies, salamanders, and snapperworts."

"What, in Merlin's name, is a snapperwort?"

"I haven't the foggiest—I never have the nerve to ask—but if she says my granddaughter likes them, then I will find her bushels of the damned things before her other grandfather shows up at the house with them."

* * *

Snape entered his drawing room. He'd come home to find his elves had cooked all his favorite foods. He'd enjoyed a fine meal. Had a glass of his favorite wine. He'd strolled in his unkempt gardens. Perused his extensive library and contemplated his sculpture, trying yet again to remember what his favorite one was called. The whole time he knew he'd been trying to avoid the inevitable. So, finally, here he was. He lifted his head and winced when he saw the sad portrait of the former Headmaster staring at him with resignation.

He flicked his wand and removed the gag. "Who gave you that?" he asked.

"Ronald Weasley. He was waiting for me when I arrived that night. After the other portraits had been destroyed."

"Yes, Minerva told me this was your last. She plans on having another one painted to see if it turns out any better. They left your final judgment in my hands. The Ministry has enough evidence without your testimony. Professor Vane confessed and blamed it all on you."

"What's to become of her?"

"Most likely she'll get ten years in Azkaban."

"That's unfair. It was all my fault. She was a pawn. Surely you could speak to them on her behalf? Get the sentenced reduced?"

Snape scowled. "Ah, pretending you care? Hoping to appeal to my sentiment by playing on my pity? I think not. You didn't force her hand. You're nothing but a portrait. Your words would have had no power if they hadn't landed in fertile soil." He walked further into the room. "No. She's charged with kidnapping and conspiracy to do murder, along with a dozen other charges. Ten years would be getting off light in my book. She had Professor Granger kidnapped and tormented for days before I could rescue her. Vane will suffer the consequences. I have no pity."

"You're rather protective of Miss Granger."

"Professor Granger. I was only doing my duty, Albus. I've always only ever done my duty."

"You never did it unless I held your feet to the fire, my boy."

"No, that was your convenient lie. I've recently been exposed to what it's like to be a true coward. It was rather illuminating. I was just more tractable when my self-esteem was constantly shattered, and you took full advantage of it."

Snape swallowed deeply and took out his wand.

"You can't, you know. I had several protective spells layered onto the canvas. You are just going to have to come to some sort of accommodation with me. I'll be in your life forever."

"I spent my entire adult life accommodating you to pay for my sins, Albus. I even murdered you to make you happy. I'm done."

"Think, Severus. What will it do to you to kill me again? Do you really want the extra pain on your soul?"

Severus snorted. "You really are ham-fisted, you know that? This isn't an execution, Albus. It's rubbish disposal." He waved his wand in a complex pattern and bellowed, "_REDUCTO_!"

When he was done, he stared hard at the place where the wall had been. There was nothing left but the exterior brickwork of the manor-house, even the windows and their frames were missing. The gaping maw of the fireplace looked desolate without its ornate mantle. Snape closed his eyes and turned away.

"Good bye, Albus. Again."

* * *

Ta da! Only one more chap to go and our crazy little tale will be told.

You are running out of chances to review, so best make the most of this time we have left... *sniff*


	13. Melted Stone

**AN: **Thank you to everyone who helped me work on this story. **Whitehound, **was super helpful with her brit-picking, grammar tweaking and encouragement. **Noelle Leithe **helped thrash out the speedbumps in the first few chapters. **Hebe GB **was instrumental in keeping me sane and reminding me of which direction I was supposed to be walking in, and **Dressagegrrrl** poured blood, sweat, and tears, into ensuring my reading public wasn't subjected to my random inability to remember what that tiny dot at the end of a sentence does. (see?)

**Not Mine, No Money, **and all that rot.

* * *

The sound of the Floo activating across the Atrium caught everyone's attention, and the murmuring of the crowd grew into a buzz. Kingsley paused in the act of placing the medal around Seamus's neck.

The Ministry had decided that the people needed a little ceremony to celebrate the thwarting of yet another mad scheme to rule the Wizarding World. They'd kept it rather low key, deciding to hold it in the middle of a workday at the Ministry itself. The temporary seats were filled with a much smaller crowd, mostly family of the honored, Ministry workers taking a break from their day, and the press. The Floos had been blocked, so as to not interrupt the ceremony. Access had only been granted to those attendees who had been sent an invitation, and only one person was still missing.

Hermione's heart started to slam in her chest in a syncopated rhythm in keeping with the sound of the man's boots. Finally, he cleared a pillar, and she saw him in full billow. Her hands started to sweat. The last time she had seen him had been in St. Mungo's. Snape had been under the effects of Dreamless Sleep Draught, still recovering from his cursed knife-wound. He'd woken up while she'd been in the loo and promptly refused all visitors. He'd withdrawn from the world in general in the two weeks since his release. Madam Malfoy had explained to her about the lingering effects of the cursed knife over tea at Luna's and urged her toward patience, but Hermione still found herself irrationally hurt that she had been ranked with "the world in general."

Severus walked purposefully towards the dais. He looked splendid in his elegant robes with his Order of Merlin draped on his chest. Hermione gave a forlorn smile when she saw his hair was shining as it swayed around his shoulders. He'd obviously taken pains with his appearance, having learned the joy to be found in shampoo at her hands. Her fingers curled at the memory. She had the sudden wish that she'd taken more care with her own appearance, even though she'd given it a considerable amount of thought already and had been happy with her decision to stick with her usual attire. She pushed her glasses back up her nose and refused to pat at her hair to make sure it was still under lock and pin.

Every eye was glued to the man as he walked towards the front of the assembly with refined grace. Women sighed as he passed. Men either puffed up or deflated, depending on their egos. One overeager young woman reached out to touch his cloak as he passed and he shocked her and everyone else when he lightly smacked her hand.

"Mustn't touch," he snapped, as the woman recoiled in shocked surprise. Minerva let out a soft chuckle, and Hermione heard Ron snort. Harry's answering chortle matched her own softer one.

A camera was shoved in his face, and he plucked it out of the reporter's hand as he continued on past. He nodded to Molly Weasley in the front row and handed the camera to George's three-year-old son, Fred, without breaking stride. Little Fred let out a happy cry and immediately started to bash it against the back of his seat. Obviously, Snape's relationship with the press was at an all-time low since his refusal to grant an interview upon release, and their refusal to honor his request for privacy.

Snape ascended the stairs, and Hermione's breathing became even more erratic. He exchanged quiet greetings with the Malfoys and graced Lucius with a slightly mocking nod toward the medals around their necks. Lucius waved him off as if he were an irritating fly, but Hermione could see the amused gleam in his eye.

Finally, he reached his seat between Minerva's and hers. She tried to school her features into the same bland politeness he'd displayed, but when their eyes met, and she saw the hopefulness buried in his, she felt her smile explode into place. His eyes glittered at her for just a moment longer before he swept his robes gracefully out of the way and sat.

A wave of his hand signaled Kingsley to continue. Hermione giggled at the Minister's pout.

"Granger, you're looking lovely," Snape murmured quietly.

"Better than a muddy nightgown, I'm sure. Thank you. You look rather smashing yourself," she replied softly.

"I have some very fond memories of that nightgown," he replied just as Kingsley shook Seamus's hand, and the audience burst into applause.

Hermione knew she was hopelessly blushing as Kingsley launched into his next speech.

"Our next Honoree, and recipient of the Godric Gryffindor Award for Bravery, is Neville Longbottom…"

Hermione clapped enthusiastically, but Snape just leaned closer and muttered, "I'm dreadfully disappointed in you, Granger. I thought this friendship thing entailed actually spending time together. I've heard nothing from you in weeks."

She twisted her neck and stared at him in surprise and no small amount of irritation.

"You refused all visitors!" she squeaked. Kingsley and Neville turned their heads at her outburst, and Minerva hissed at them. She dropped her voice low. "How was I to know you even wanted to remain friends when you lumped me in with everyone else! I spent days sitting out in the hall watching the endless display of buxom nurses slipping in and out of your rooms. How can you blame me for giving up?"

"Easily. Lucius knew enough to waltz right in. I would have put your intelligence at least at his level. Obviously I gave you too much credit. This friendship thing is obviously a total wash."

"You bastard!" she hissed, receiving yet another round of looks.

"Wrong again. My father was a bastard. I was not. There's paperwork to prove it if you need it."

She slid her eyes up and saw the amused smirk on his face.

"My apologies. I should have tried for accuracy. What about 'you arse?' Does that suit?"

"I find it infinitely more acceptable. Especially in light of the fact that you seemed quite fond of running your tongue along my arse upon occasion."

Hermione's eyes flew wide, and she felt her face flame up again and knew she was as red as a beetroot. She heard the click of a shutter and turned to see a gleeful photographer aiming at her.

"As I was saying," Snape continued, his voice low and sexy in her ear. "I think it's obvious that the whole friendship thing doesn't really suit. I suggest we go back and try shagging our brains out again. It was infinitely more pleasurable if you don't look too closely at the first part. Or the next morning part. I can't say I'm all that fond of the whole 'one night stand' scenario now that I've had time for a bit of a think."

His words were so unexpected and yet so thoroughly welcome that she had no idea how to react. A sudden desire to throw herself at him overcame her, but was quickly squashed by images of what photos would appear in the paper the next day. A nearly hysterical giggle bubbled out of her throat, and soon people were starting to elbow each other and gesture at her while Snape blandly looked about the room in feigned ennui.

"So what do you say, Granger?" he murmured.

"What about the nurses? How many of them will I trip over on the way?"

He turned his full attention on her, and she was surprised at the sincerity on his face. "There are no nurses, Granger. I found their attention beyond irritating and eventually banned them from my rooms. I assure you, there is no one to trip over. I have become rather narrowly focused since our trek across the wilderness."

She turned her attention back to the Minister in time to see Ron stride up to accept his award. She clapped heartily, but her mind was clearly not focused.

"You're awfully forward, propositioning me in front of an entire assembly," she whispered out of the side of her mouth.

"If that is an allusion to my normally cautious mind-set, let me just tell you that I've recently had to readjust my opinion of myself, and I find that given the right motivation, I can rise to any occasion."

"Was that another allusion?"

"Did you like it?"

"Not particularly."

"Then, no. It was not. It was just an observation."

They both applauded for Ron as he received his medal and bowed for the audience. The cameras went wild, and Ron stiffened up and walked quickly to his seat. It was Minerva's turn next.

"How are you doing with the press coverage, Granger? Any troubles?"

"Not since I gave up on you and slunk out of St Mungo's for good. According to the papers, I'm a tragically love-struck old maid, shunned by my hero. Today is the first time I've left Hogwarts without a disguise since."

Snape remained quiet for so long after that admission that she peeked up at him and saw he was glaring malignantly at the press. Several shutters clicked.

"I had no idea, Hermione. I am terribly sorry." He turned to look at her directly. "I never wished to cause you any distress," he said quietly.

"Oh, I know that. I admit it was a bit painful, but not the complete shellacking I'd seen others get. I guess I'm just not really interesting enough."

They listened politely as Minerva's role in the whole endeavor was retold. As Kingsley droned on, Snape leaned back in.

"I find you endlessly fascinating, Granger. In fact, the only reason I came to this inanity was to try to talk you back into my bed. However, you have suffered enough because of my own selfishness. If you truly want to just be friends, I can accommodate that. But in the spirit of full disclosure, you should know that anytime we make small talk, I will be repeatedly violating you in the most decadent ways in my head."

Hermione blinked rapidly, trying not to let her escalating physical reaction show on her face.

"What about a compromise?" she whispered.

"Such as what? Friendship on Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays and intense bouts of carnal acts on all the other days?"

"No, you dolt. A relationship," she hissed. "We could actually try and have a relationship."

"A re_lation_ship. What a singular idea. Such a clever girl, you are, Granger. How soon can we start?"

Applause broke out for Minerva. Hermione clapped politely, if perfunctorily before she turned her head and looked directly at him and finally saw the mischievously smug look on his face. She'd been played.

She smiled shyly at him and muttered, "Arse."

His face lit up, and his eyes began to smolder. "Indeed. Shall we go?"

"What, _now_?"

"Why not? I got what I came for. Do you really need another one of these silly things to dangle around you neck? This one doesn't even come with money. You'd think they could come off with a few Galleons, considering we returned their bloody Note."

She glanced nervously at the press who were still far too interested in their whispered conversation than the ceremony. She knew instinctively that this was one of those moments in her life where the future hinged on her decision. She refused to make one more decision based on fear.

"Why not?" she said with a slightly hysterical laugh.

Snape jumped up from his seat, grabbing her hand and dragging her up with him. He murmured an insincere apology to Kingsley as he reached over and snatched two medals off the velvet on the awards table, and then pulled her after him as they dashed off the stage. She laughed out loud as the audience started to babble and camera shutters clicked like mad as they raced across the floor hand-in-hand, and with a shout, dashed through the Floo.

* * *

Severus backed Hermione slowly across the foyer towards the stairs, kissing her the whole way. Their shoes chirped, squeaked, and scuffed the marble floor until she snagged the edge of the rug and started to fall. He caught her easily as she burst forth with a silvery laugh that made his chest ache. Gods, her laugh was beautiful.

"Honestly, we must look like a pair of sixth-years," she said with a smile when she'd regained her feet. Her eyes glittered with merriment. "Let's do this the right way. Show me your home, Mr. Snape."

"No," he said and kissed her again, nudging her closer towards the stairs. "This house repels women," he said against her lips.

Hermione broke the kiss and looked around as he tried to direct her head back towards his lips with slowly increasing pressure on her nape Most of her hair pins were either on the pavement outside the front door, or on the floor at Spinner's End. He gave up and attacked her shockingly graceful neck.

"Well, I can see why. You couldn't have done this yourself. Did you offend your decorator?"

His lips left her neck with a pop. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it just looks like it was designed by either an elderly woman with no taste, or by a gay man with a vendetta. I mean, I do like the odd sculpture you have here and there, but seriously, cabbage roses?"

"Those _bastards_," he spat. "And I gave them a bonus!"

"Who?"

"Frick and Frack, my Muggle decorators. I have them coming back to fix the drawing room next week."

"You might want to reconsider."

"I probably don't have to. I Obliviated the pillocks. They won't remember that I made Andre cry."

"Andre?"

" The designer's carpenter partner, Andre St. James. Frack."

"Ah, I see. I think. Well, I'm sure they confined their snit to the foyer . Surely you couldn't have made Andre cry that hard." He grimaced and she winced. "On the other hand, perhaps you should let me see the rest of the damage."

He sighed. "All right, but only the fast tour. I hope you have comfortable shoes."

"I'm a spinster. What other type would I have?"

He turned and gave her his best smirk, making a mental note to take her shoe shopping over the weekend. This was a woman who simply must have pointy things on her dainty feet. The images that popped up nearly made him cross-eyed. He grabbed her hand and started to drag her through his house.

"That was the foyer. This is the drawing room. Not much at the moment, I know."

"What happened to the wall?"

"It displeased me."

She gestured to the missing fireplace. "Is this why we Flooed to Spinner's End first and then Apparated here?"

"Precisely."

"Oh. This was where Dumbledore's Portrait was, isn't it?"

He nodded.

She looked at him with such understanding, his heart stuttered in his chest. He didn't want this topic to damp his chances of getting her knickers off, so he tugged on her arm and headed back across the foyer. "Here's the library. _No. _You don't get to stop."

He dragged her through the room nearly at a run and threw open another set of doors. "Here's the conservatory. Outside you can see what will be splendid gardens if I ever get around to them. Back this way is the dinning room. You'll have to order your own meals. What are you doing? I said you can't stop." He turned when he felt her hand slip out of his and saw her staring at his favorite sculpture.

"You have Apollyon Weeps," she said with awe.

Snape's eyes flew wide. "_That's_ what it's called. I must write that down."

"Write it down? _This_ is the sculpture you couldn't remember the name of?"

"Yes, I'm rather fond of it, but I couldn't remember what those two poofs told me about it when they tried to talk me out of buying it. You've heard of it?"

"I went to a gallery showing of this artist with my mum-oh, it must have been two years ago. I remember this one well." She tentatively reached out and followed the twisted, melted lines of the stone without actually touching it. "I loved it. I still do."

Snape felt something that had been bound deep inside trembling to burst free. He reached out and took her hand and pressed it against the stone. When she sighed, it was as if the dam broke.

"You can have it," he blurted. "You can have all of it, Hermione." He looked directly into her eyes and let all his masks and shields fall. "You can have all of me." She looked up at him in shock. He took her hand and pressed it to his chest. "Is it really such a surprise? Are you really shocked? You _know_ me, Hermione. No one else does. I'm tired of playing games, assuming false roles. I want to be with someone who knows and accepts me for who I really am. I want to be with _you_. You make me feel worthy." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I've spent these last two weeks thinking of nothing but you, Granger. I've been rattling around in this mausoleum trying to think of ways to see you that would fall under the heading of Friendship, and I couldn't. I've written you endless invitations to tea that all ended up crumpled on the floor. I've tried to find a way to temper my feelings and only be the friend you wanted, but the very idea leaves me dizzy with anxiety. I can't lose the chance of something more with you because I am afraid. I've become obsessed with you, Granger. I would like the chance to try for something slightly less irrational. I would like to love you. If you will have me."

He panicked when he saw her eyes fill with tears. _'Fool, Snape. You always push too far!' _But her next words dispelled the fear before it could burrow in too deep.

"Yes! I would like that." She stepped closer and cupped his cheek in her small, soft hand. He nuzzled against it. "I would very much like a chance to love you, Severus. I think I already do." She laughed a bit through her tears. "However, if what I'm feeling is love, then it doesn't bode well for your hope of being slightly more rational. I think there is little rationality involved."

He wrapped his arms around her and simply held her, reveling in the sense of completeness she'd gifted him with. He kissed the top of her head.

"Come," he said. "I have one room I really wanted you to see. I decorated it myself, and I would very much like your opinion on it since I plan on spending a lot of time there with you."

She gave him a sultry look that set his blood on fire.

"Lead on…"

The door to the bedroom banged open as Snape backed through it, pulling Hermione along while kissing her passionately. Her little mewling cries and throaty growls called for him to just stop and throw her to the floor, but he persevered and slowly stumbled backwards until he felt the back of his knees hit his bed. He scooped her up and sat, settling her legs on either side of his hips, before plucking off her glasses and slowly pulling her down with him onto the bed. They never broke their desperate kisses as he tried to toe his boots off and snatch the last pins out of her hair. She fumbled at the buttons on his robes while grinding down on him in a way that made rational thought far too much work. She grabbed his shoulders and rolled them over. She pulled, and he pushed until they were more or less in the center of the bed and mostly naked.

There were few preliminaries. He gasped as her hand encircled him and drew him to where she wanted him. She bit his lip as he started to push inside.

"Gods, woman, you feel so good," he groaned.

"I've missed this," she panted. "I've missed you. So much."

Snape was shocked by what felt like a prickle of tears in his eyes at her words. He buried his reaction in more kisses until her muscles rippling around him drove away all coherent thought. _Nothing_ in his entire world felt as good as fucking Hermione Granger. He rose up on his arms and gave himself over to mindless pounding when he heard her cry out. His heart swelled with pride as he felt her clamp tight around him, and her whole body shuddered beneath him. His own release danced just beyond reach, torturing him sweetly until it suddenly rushed up and roared through his body, and he emptied himself into her with a shout.

He sagged and his arms shook with the effort to keep himself from crushing her as he pressed little kisses across her face. She stroked her hands languidly across his back. His hair hung to either side like curtains, shielding their faces.

"So, what do you think of my room?" he drawled with a smirk.

She laughed and ran her hands down and squeezed his arse.

"I adore what I've seen so far."

"Not as much as I adore you, Hermione. Thank you for inviting me to share your life."

She made a face and cocked her head to the side. "Hang on. I thought you invited me to share yours?" she said with an adorable twinkle in her eye.

"Nonsense. You were the one that said we should have a relationship. Budge up. I want a blanket."

"_Me_?" she squealed as she helped pull the blankets out from under them. "You played me like a fiddle with all that silliness at the Ministry."

"I assure you, Granger. All of this was your idea." He settled his favorite pillow behind her head. "You were the one that demanded I take your maidenhead."

"Oh yes, and you did such a fine job of _that_." She pulled the blankets up over his shoulder.

"How was I to know you'd gone past your freshness date?"

"Oh, you arse," she said as she burst into a fit of giggles.

He pulled her into his arms and wrapped himself around her like a promise before kissing her on her adorable nose. "You do realize that I intend to keep you, don't you?" he asked.

"I sincerely hope so, Severus. I don't plan on letting you go."

"Good," he said and kissed her as if it was the first time all over again.

* * *

**A Quibbler Exclusive!**

Nightmare at the Snape Residence!

Journalists Endanger Rare Species of Plant!

Several Daily Prophet reporters and photographers are recovering in St. Mungo's overnight after spending a nightmarish week trapped outside the Snape home. The journalists were bound up in some beautiful specimens of Devil's Snare, causing untold harm to the precious and valuable plants until Mr. Severus Snape and his new bride, Professor Hermione Granger-Snape, returned from their secret honeymoon.

"It was terribly unfortunate," said Granger-Snape. "My husband had told Bob, one of our house-elves, that he could landscape the yard however he pleased while we were gone. I'm sure it never occurred to Severus that Bob used to be in charge of the more dangerous plants at Hogwarts before he came to his new home."

The Snapes returned from a week in France to find nearly a dozen members of the press trapped in their newly acquired exotic foliage. The reporters had been trying to investigate rumors of a secret Marriage License and had clearly trespassed onto private property.

"There wouldn't have been an incident if the dunderheads observed Property Laws," sneered an unapologetic Mr. Snape. "My elves have a right to their hobbies. Several rare plants were damaged by their thrashing."

Despite their terror, the journalists were treated well.

"I think there's something strange about those elves," said one reporter. "They wouldn't help free us, nor would they help us get to our wands, or call for help. They would only stun the plants a little when they came near to choking us to death. They did bring us food, but we each had to ask personally. They seemed to spend a lot of time staring and chortling. They did occasionally hit us with cleaning charms, thank Merlin for that, but I think only because the smell started to bother them."

"They smirk," said a photographer. "Each of those little [house-elves] would just stand there and smirk. I swear they practiced Snape's [signature] look."

"I don't care if Snape decides to become the next Minister for Magic. I'm never going near that house again," another reporter declared with a shudder. "Do you have any openings on your staff? You guys never report gossip."

* * *

"Right. That's eleven reporters, so that makes eleven bottles of Butterbeer. Share and drink responsibly," Snape said, pushing the bottles across the kitchen table. "Well done."

He smirked as his elves gabbled at each other in excitement before snatching up their treasure and scurrying off to their lair. He turned his head as his wife entered the room, feeling the now familiar warmth that flooded through his body whenever he looked at her. _'My wife,' _he thought. _'Will that ever get old?' _He snorted. Not hardly. She stood smiling at the departing elves, wearing a loose-fitting summer dress, with her hair falling in loose curls down her back and framing her face. She was breathtaking.

She heard his pleased sigh and turned her pretty eyes towards him.

"Severus, I want to show you what Stephan and Andre did in the drawing room. I added a few touches of my own, and I'd like your opinion on it." Her eyes danced, full of love and laughter, and an infinite number of erotic possibilities that never failed to make him rise to the occasion.

"Oh? What changes have you made?"

"I added some candles, a bottle of wine, and that potion we ran out of on our honeymoon."

He pushed himself up from the table and walked over until he loomed over her. He ran his hands down her back and leaned in and kissed her as she grabbed his robes and started to back out of the room.

"Lead on, wife," he murmured against her lips. "Lead on."

~Finite~

* * *

And that's all she wrote. I do hope you enjoyed my little tale. Your reviews and encouragement made this a labor of love. I adore you all. (Especially the ones that click the review button. Yup. I love you guys more.)


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